


The Dance of Love

by Mellkat86



Category: Once Upon a Time (TV)
Genre: Adultery, Ballroom Dancing, Betrayal, Blackmail, Broken Engagement, Dancing, Dancing Lessons, F/M, Father-Son Relationship, Inspired by Once Upon a Time (TV), Light Angst, Minor Violence, Once Upon a Time (TV) References, Romance, Storybrooke (Once Upon a Time)
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-02-18
Updated: 2021-03-14
Packaged: 2021-03-14 13:34:31
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 52
Words: 225,347
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29543142
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Mellkat86/pseuds/Mellkat86
Summary: *AU with no magic* Rumald used to be a ballroom dancer and Cora was his dance partner until she left him for someone else. Several years later, Regina comes to see Rumald to call in the favour that he owes her. While she's away in Europe, Regina needs Rumald to cover her evening dance classes, one with a group and the other with an engaged couple, Gaston and Belle.
Relationships: Belle & Rumplestiltskin | Mr. Gold, Belle/Rumplestiltskin | Mr. Gold, Belle/Rumplestiltskin | Mr. Gold/Rumplestiltskin | Mr. Gold
Comments: 66
Kudos: 44





	1. Chapter 1

It was late Friday afternoon and outside, the sun was setting down over Storybrooke as everyone went home to start their weekend with their families. Sat in the backroom of his shop, Rumald brought his glass to lips and sipped the twenty-five-year-old whiskey from the tumbler. He set it down onto his workbench and leant over the bench, eyeing the inner workings of a mantle clock he had in pieces on the bench. Carefully, Rumald worked one of the gears from its position, edging it up and off of its shaft to pick it up with tweezers. He eyed it to make sure the teeth were intact and undamaged, and then placed the gear on the cloth he had spread out onto the workbench. 

Rumald inspected the next gear in the mechanism as he sipped some more of his whiskey. The thought of going home was far from his mind. Passing up the chance to get some work done without being interrupted was hard. Sometimes he wondered why someone as introverted as himself, involved himself in so much of the town. To the majority of the town, he was their landlord and the plague of their existence, as he wanted all of his rent money and on time, every time he came to collect it. So, of course, being their landlord brought with it all of their complaints. ‘The heating doesn’t work’, ‘I have no hot water’, ‘I’ve locked myself out of my house’, were the most common complaints they had for him. The only thing no one complained about was how quick he got things rectified. Granted, that was mostly for his own sanity, so he did not have to deal with them until the next time the rent was due.

With also being the town’s pawnbroker, Rumald had dealings with everyone in town, who was hard up on cash and needed a quick reprieval. Funnily enough, a lot of his tenants tended to grace his shop near the end of the month, looking to trade an item with him for some cash. When he would collect from certain tenants at the end of the month, he knew he would be paid with the money he had given them days before. A vicious circle, none of them seemed able to break themselves from. 

Knocking back his glass, Rumald finished off the remains of his whiskey and returned his glass to the workbench. He slipped the edge of his screwdriver under the gear and with the precise amount of tension, unclipped the gear from its position on the shaft and picked it up with the tweezers to place beside the other gear. As he sought the next piece of the puzzle in the mechanism, the bell above the front door of his shop rung, signalling someone had entered the shop. Rumald groaned at the sound, inwardly cursing himself for not dead bolting the door earlier. 

“Gold,” Her voice carried easily through the shop. “Are you here?”

“If I say no, will you go away?” He asked, really wishing he had bolted the door earlier. 

The curtain dividing the front and the rear of the shop moved aside and Regina stepped through, smiling at him as she approached the workbench, saying. “I was hoping to find you before you went home.”

“Well, you’ve found me, dearie.” Rumald waved his hand airily, his attention on the clock in front of him. “Please let the door hit you on your way out.”

“I need to call in the favour you owe me.” Regina told him, angling herself over the workbench to eye the mantle clock in front of him. 

Setting down the tweezers and screwdriver, Rumald finally lifted his gaze to look at Regina. “And what is it you require? Power? Money?” He paused to crook one side of his lips into a smile. “A baby?”

“What would I want with a baby?” She asked slightly mortified before shaking her head at him to say. “No, I just need your time.”

“My time?” He inquired standing up from his stool as he collected his glass from the workbench. 

As she explained, Rumald went to the cabinet at the back of the room and opened the small hatch in the middle of the cabinet, retrieving a decanter of whiskey to refill his glass. “One of my students has fallen ill and won’t be able to attend a competition in Europe. Her partner needs a partner and, course, I know their routine.”

“How does this involve me, dearie?” Rumald scrunched his brow at his own question, already having a feeling as to what she wanted her favour to be, and retook his seat on his stool by the workbench. 

“I just need you to cover my classes in the evenings, for the next couple of weeks.” She beamed a smile at him, reminding him so much of her mother. 

Once that smile would have been enough for him. Rumald used to quite happily forget about the world just to see that smile from her mother. He had not seen her for twelve years and he hoped it lasted till the day he died. Cora had broken his heart, crushed it to dust in front of him. So the thought of seeing her, talking to her, sent an unpleasant shiver down his spine, much like the one that ran down his back seeing Regina smile at him. 

“Couple of weeks?” Rumald questioned, his frown deepening at her. “You said a competition. As in one. That doesn’t take weeks.”

Regina shrugged a single shoulder at him. “I’m going to make the most of it and have a vacation in Europe at the same time.”

“Really, dearie?” His voice conveyed his annoyance. 

“Hey, I haven’t had a vacation since I opened the dance studio.” She defended herself to him. “I’ve been putting all of my time into the dance studio and it’s finally paying off. We’re fully booked every week. And I have new students starting all the time.”

“Congratulations, dearie.” He forced a smile for her, though Rumald was very proud of her. 

When she had come to him to ask for a loan, so she could buy the building from him, Rumald had known she would make it. Regina had paid him in full by the end of her second year in business and had only soared from there. He had no expectations that she would fail. If she had, then it would have been his own fault since he had taught her everything she knew – business and dance.

Regina raised a sceptic eyebrow at him. “You could be genuinely pleased for me.”

“I am, I am.” Rumald picked up his glass from the workbench and drank from it. 

“You don’t sound like it.” She said with a small amount of hurt evident in her voice. 

Rumald gave her a genuine smile. “You should know better than to take things from me at face value.”

Her lips twisted in thought as Regina gave him a look, trying to decipher the truth from him. Rumald met her gaze easily, allowing her all the time in the world to see he was being honest. It was hard for him sometimes to look at her, not only because she reminded him of her mother, but because she was a prominent reminder he was getting older. 

He had known Regina since she was eight years old. She had played with his son, Neal, when the two had been hanging around the dance studio, waiting for their parents to finish practising. Granted, a lot of their practise sessions had been behind a locked door, hiding the fact they were stealing an intimate moment. Secretly having an affair behind Cora’s husband’s back. If he had been anything of the man he had been, when he had been married, he would have ended the affair before it had even got a chance to begin. Dance had led him into her arms and loneliness had driven him into her embrace. 

“Anyway, my staff can cover the day classes, I just need you to cover my evening classes.” She reiterated her previous statement, bringing Rumald out of his memories. 

“How many classes?” He queried, not really liking the idea of teaching again. 

Since the day Cora had broken his heart, he had sworn he would never have a dance partner again or teach another dance class. Although, Rumald had given into Regina, when she had begged him to teach her after the vicious clash she had with her mother.

A small knowing smile spread Regina lips. “Monday and Friday, I have a general dance class. Tuesday and Thursday, I have a private session with a couple, who are learning to dance for their wedding.”

“Oh, great.” Rumald grumbled picking up his whiskey to swig from it. “Love birds.”

“They’re already paid in full for their classes. She wants them to learn all the basics, so they don’t look stupid for their first dance.” Regina informed him and then chuckled. “That’s what they all say.”

Rolling his eyes, he tossed back the rest of his whiskey and said. “No doubt it’s her idea. Some stupid notion of romance.” 

Regina chuckled, while she reprimanded him. “Don’t be so negative. Love sells.”

“Love is weapon.” Rumald grumbled placing his glass onto the workbench.

Edging round the workbench to stand beside him, Regina placed her hand on Rumald’s shoulder. “You know, you’re better off without her.”

He refused to acknowledge what she had said. If he did, it would open him up to thinking about feelings, he had long ago managed to bury deep down inside of him. All love had ever given him was pain. First time was when his father had abandoned him. The second time was when his wife, Milah, had left him for another dancer. And, of course, the third time had been Cora, using him to further her reputation and win many competitions together. Then, when she no longer needed him and had the opportunity to get a new partner, she had dropped him without a second thought.

Picking up his tweezers and screwdriver, Rumald hunched himself over his workbench, saying. “Okay, dearie, I’ll take your pathetic classes for you.”

“I knew I could count on you.” She cheered leaning into him to kiss his cheek and said moving away to the curtained doorway. “If you need anything, the girls at the dance studio will be happy to help you.”

Wildly waving his hand at her, Rumald urged her to quickly leave him in peace and quiet, so he could return to dismantling the mantle clock on his workbench. She shook her head at him, but thankfully, left him to disappear behind the curtain. After a few moments, the bell above the shop door rung, signalling the door had opened, and then jangled when the door was closed behind her. Dropping his tools, Rumald quickly followed her path to the front of the shop and slid the dead bolt across the top and bottom of the door. He turned over the sign on the door to ‘closed’ and lingered at the door, looking through the glass to see Regina strolling across the street. Reaching up, Rumald hooked his finger into the ring on end of the string, attached to the blind, and drew it down to block the view of outside.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Rumald goes to the first group session.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Song:   
> Vera Lynn – I’m Beginning to See the Light

Standing at the front door of his shop, Rumald slid his key into the lock and locked the shop for the night, and checked the door was locked by pushing the door and walked away. He had about ten minutes to walk to the dance studio. Though, he had tried to kill as much time as he could by hanging out at the shop, hoping he may forget and went home instead. Rumald grumbled to himself about how he never broke a deal, while he crossed the street. There were a few people coming and going from the shops as he crossed, picking up last minute items before they closed for the evening. Some were heading to Grannies for their dinner. Most though, avoid Rumald as he strode towards them, crossing to the opposite side as soon as they had seen him cross. He wore half a smirk, enjoying the fact people avoided him.

At the end of Main Street, Rumald crossed the road and ambled the short distance to Regina’s dance studio. She had bought an old wharf warehouse off of him, which she had renovated with some of the money she had loaned off of him. The metal door handle on the glass door was cool, when he grabbed it to pull the door open, allowing him access to the brightly lit entrance. Rumald had not set foot in the studio since the day he sold her an empty warehouse. Stopping just inside of the doorway, Rumald took the chance to look about and feast his eyes on the décor.

Either side of him were two studios, separated by the reception area and by glass walls, allowing visitors to watch the dancers in the studios. The rooms were exactly the same: a balance bar ran the length of one of the walls, the whole of one wall was covered by a mirror and a sound system tucked away into a corner. The reception area felt spacious and minimal. The main focal point was the reception desk, decorated with the dance studio logo, welcoming everyone as they entered the dance studio. Behind the desk was a staircase that led to two more staircases, climbing to the private studios above. Rumald was very impressed with what Regina had done with the warehouse. Most of the dance studios he had graced in his younger years, had been crummy, little tucked away studios, which hid above the local stores.

He could feel himself smiling as he gazed up to look at the awards, Regina had on display inside glass cabinets. If he would have allowed himself, Rumald would have told Regina how proud he was of her accomplishment, but he could not do that. Allowing himself to do that, would be admitting he felt something towards her as a father would for a daughter. By admitting he felt something for her, Rumald would be breaking his promise to never let love get in his way again – romantic or platonic, it did not matter. Love was dangerous.

Gathering himself from his thoughts, Rumald shrugged off his overcoat and laid it over his arm whilst he approached the reception desk, where Mal Regis stood looking at the planner on the computer. Mal had yet to show him any sign she had noticed him, as she frowned at the computer in front of her. Patiently, Rumald waited for the younger woman to notice him as he stood on the other side of the desk, his arms hidden underneath his overcoat with his feet parted, rocking back on his heels. Tapping a couple more keys on the keyboard, Mal made a triumphant noise and tapped a couple more keys before she lifted her gaze to Rumald.

“Mr Gold,” Mal smiled at him, more to be courteous than out of pleasure. “Regina said you would be by. Your class is waiting in studio C.” She gestured with her hand to the studio above on his left. “Your class is already up there, waiting for you.”

“Thank you.” Rumald curtly nodded his head to the woman and made a b-line around the desk for the stairs.

“I was surprised, when Regina said you would be taking her classes.” Mal stated to him, causing him to pause midway up the stairs and twist to see her. She was not paying him any more attention, her back to him as she returned her attention to the computer. Scowling at her, Rumald started climbing the stairs and glanced once more back at her, when he reached the landing to take the next set of stairs to studio C.

Entering the room, Rumald slowed his pace seeing a group of people huddled at the other end of the room. They all shushed and looked at him. The shock of seeing him there was evident on their faces. Tearing his gaze away from them, Rumald sauntered over to where the sound system was located and folded his overcoat to place it on the stool near the sound system. Behind him, he could hear their hushed whispers, conspiring for answers as to why Mr Gold was there. With his back to them, he grinned hearing their murmurs and selected a piece of music from the sound system playlist.

As the music began to play, Rumald spun round and clapped his hands to gain their attention. “Okay, class.” He hated himself as he said it. “With the help of Vera Lynn, I want to see your foxtrot. So, if you could get with your partner, we can crack on with the class.”

A few of the couples moved out onto the dancefloor and began dancing, while many of the couples remained where they had all been huddled. Inwardly, Rumald groaned at the sight of them. ‘ _Couldn’t just be compliant?’_ , he thought to himself, setting off across the room to confront them. As he neared them, they seemed to squash further together, building a human shield against him.

“Is there a problem, ladies and gentlemen?” Rumald asked as nicely as he could, while he really wanted to yell at them to get on the dancefloor.

Ashley Herman clung to her husband as she spoke. “We didn’t sign up to have classes with you. Where’s Regina?”

“She’s in Europe, helping another student and taking a vacation.” He informed them.

Forcing a smile onto his face, Rumald wanted to grab the young girl by the scruff of her neck and throw her out. Ashley was another one of his tenants, who always struggled to pay her rent on time and had taken umbrage with him because of it. A wee part of him did feel sorry for her circumstances, but the fact he had come from nothing to build himself to where he was today, stopped him from giving her and her husband, Sean Herman, any leniency. Or anyone else in Storybrooke for that matter.

“But did it need to be you?” Mary-Margaret Nolan questioned with her arms folded. Seeing the pre-school teacher giving him her best glare was laughable. Her husband, Sheriff David Nolan, was stood nonchalant beside her, his hands on his hips where his gun belt would have been fastened. The Sheriff and he were very accustomed with one another. A few times, Rumald had to call the Sheriff in to help with evicting someone, keeping things as close to being lawful as he could.

“You’d have to take that up with Regina.” Rumald told them, clasping his hands in front of himself.

Sheriff Nolan then asked. “How long is she away for? Can’t be for too long, surely?”

With a brief shrug of his shoulders, Rumald answered coolly. “A month, she told me.”

“A month?!” Ashley exclaimed before turning to her husband. “I can’t! I don’t want to be here, if it has to be him!”

“It’s okay. We’ll come back when Regina’s back.” Sean soothed her, rubbing his hands up and down her upper arms.

“That’s totally up to you, dearies.” Rumald extended his left arm to motion to the door. “You’re more than welcome to leave. I promise, I won’t hold you against your will.”

Sean took hold of his wife’s hand and began to lead her from the room. “Come on.”

Watching them leave, Rumald was glad to see them go as the Sheriff said to his wife and the others around them. “Look, it’s just an hour with Gold.”

“An hour you’ll never get back.” Rumald taunted them, turning his head to grin evilly at them, hoping more of them would leave.

“What exactly do you know about dancing, anyway?” Mary-Margaret interrogated him, unfolding her arms to put her hands on her hips. The corner of his lip hooked up into a grin at her. She never shied away from him. Unlike many of the women in Storybrooke, Mary-Margaret was brave enough to stand her ground with Rumald.

A knowing smile spread across Rumald’s face before he replied to her question. “I was Regina’s teacher.”

“You?” Mary-Margaret cried out.

With a chuckle, Rumald gestured to himself. “What’s so hard to understand, Mrs Nolan?”. He laid his hand on his chest. “Can’t imagine the beast of Storybrooke dancing?”

“No.” She said bluntly, frowning at him.

The sheriff grabbed his wife hand and waved to the other students. “Come on, we’ve paid for the time. Let’s just use it.”

Steadily, the others moved into an empty space in the dance studio and began dancing with their partners. Rumald stayed in the same spot, watching them as they did the foxtrot feeling their eyes on him from time to time. His attention was on their feet, watching their feet as they took two slow steps, two quick steps and then one slow step, moving gracefully together. As he watched, unconsciously his head was nodding the steps in time with them – slow, slow, quick, quick, slow. Silently he was impressed by all of them, but they would never know that, ever.

Rumald gradually made his way back over to the sound system, observing them as he walked around the outside of the dancefloor. Astrid and Leroy kept drawing his eye as they missed and stumble a step. Focusing his attention on them, he surveyed their footwork – slow, slow, quick, slow, quick. He squinted his eyes at them as he casually moved by the other couples to confront Leroy and Astrid.

“You’re doing the steps wrong.” Rumald revealed to them, his eyes cast down at their feet as they carried on dancing.

“No, we’re not.” Leroy defended them.

Astrid’s eyes were wide at Leroy. “Leroy.”

“Yes, you are.” Rumald reaffirmed and looked up to Leroy. You’re doing slow, slow, quick, slow, quick. Those are not the steps.” Holding his hand out to Astrid, Rumald asked her. “If you would be so kind?”

Hesitantly, Astrid took her hand from Leroy’s and placed it into Rumald’s, allowing him to take her away from Leroy and into his arms. She peered over her arm at Leroy, silently crying out for help as Rumald began to lead her in the foxtrot.

“You should be doing slow, slow, quick, quick, slow.” Rumald pointed to their feet for Leroy to watch. “Slow, slow, quick, quick, slow.”

“Okay, Mr Fancy Pants.” Leroy took Astrid from Rumald and brought her back into the safety of his embrace.

Rumald shook his head, saying. “It probably would help if you were compatible. The height difference is not going to help you much.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?” Leroy stopped dancing with Astrid and turned to Rumald, glaring at the taller man, as Astrid whispered to Leroy to stay calm.

“Well, it’s obvious, dearie.” Rumald pointed to the pair of them. “She’s taller than you. You were always going to have a hard time together.”

Leroy took a step towards Rumald, glaring up at him. “Are you trying to say I’m too short to dance with my girlfriend?”

“I’m not trying to say it. I said it.” Rumald towered over the other man, cracking half a smile at the shorter man.

“Come on, boys.” Sheriff Nolan passed by them with Mary-Margaret, still dancing. “Behave.”

“Leroy, just dance with me.” Astrid said touching Leroy’s shoulder.

“Yes, Leroy.” Turning his back to the shorter man, Rumald said as he waltzed away. “And don’t forget. Slow, slow, quick, quick, slow.”

Leroy grumpily stomped round and pulled Astrid into his arms. “I’ll give him slow, slow, quick, quick, slow in a minute.”

Even though, Leroy was huffily trudging out the steps Rumald had shown him, he was now doing the steps correctly. Lingering by the sound system, his arm resting on top of the sound system, Rumald let his gaze drift from couple to couple, happy to see them all doing the same steps together. After a while, they all seemed to relax and forgot he was even in the room with them. When the hour finally came to an end, Rumald ended the current song and announced the class was over for the night. All the couples stopped dancing and applaud each other before gathering their things and leaving.

Staying back until they all had finally left the studio, Rumald took a deep breath in and let it out slowly. It had felt strange to be taking a class after so long. It felt very much like being at home, though Rumald could not shake the feeling that Cora was going to walk through the door any minute. She had waltzed straight into his arms and tangoed her way out of them, leaving him stood in a dance studio very much like the studio he was stood in at the moment. Hauntingly, Rumald could see them in the middle of the floor, practising a routine for a competition they had coming up. He could see the smile, he had stupidly thought, she only wore for him. Rumald grabbed his overcoat and ambled to the door of the room, letting himself look back over his shoulder at the ghostly memory of them dancing. A second he lingered in the doorway, watching one more twirl before he ducked out of the room and buried the memory where it belonged.


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Rumald arrives for his first private session with the couple and is blown over by the woman's beauty.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Song:   
> Joseph & Maia – Wrecking Ball

Rumald pulled open the glass door to the dance studio and entered, finding there were dance classes in both studios either side of reception. On one side were a class of kids, probably no older than twelve, waltzing around the studio in a steady circle. He took a couple of steps towards the glass wall, watching the young dancers, their faces a picture of concentration. Smiling slightly at the side of them, Rumald thought of his son, Neal, and the time he had taken part in his first and only ballroom class. He chuckled remembering how his son had stepped on many toes and had even fallen over with his dance partner, to then shout at his father on the way home. Telling his father, how he never wanted to do ballroom ever again and Neal never did. His son never stepped foot inside of a dance studio, unless he was being dropped off by his mother and had to wait for Rumald to finish practising.

With a sad thought, Rumald dropped his eyes to the toes of his shoes, wishing he could get back the time he had wasted with Cora and should have spent with his son. They were on better terms now, but Rumald had missed out on so much with his son because of her, because he had thought it was love. He would never forgive himself, even though Neal had already forgiven him. Rumald knew how it felt to grow up without a father and when Neal was born, he had made a promise that Neal would never have that experience. Except, that was exactly what had happened to his son. His father had chosen to chase after a woman, who would never return his love, and abandoned his son to do it.

He walked away from the sight of the children and glanced at the adult class in the opposite studio as he approached the reception desk. Mal appeared to be shorter behind the desk. Titling his head for a better view, Rumald could see she was sat on a stool tonight, while she typed away at the keyboard.

“Studio D.” She flung her hand to the studio above on his right. “They haven’t showed up yet. I’ll send them up as soon as they get here.”

Rumald nodded his head at the information and moved around the desk to climb the stairs. Peering over his shoulder, he wondered whether Mal was about to throw something verbally at him as he climbed the stairs. When she did not say anything, Rumald quickened his step and climbed the stairs to studio D.

Just as he expected, the room was empty. Crossing the room to the sound system, Rumald removed his overcoat and folded it to place on the stool by the sound system. He took a couple of steps from the sound system and unbuttoned his suit jacket, freeing himself of the form fitting jacket. Rumald read the clock on the wall, which stated the time was five pm dead on and checked the time with his wristwatch. He rolled his eyes at nothing in particular and strode across to the window that looked out onto the front of the studio and onto the street below.

The best thing he had learnt from being married was patience. It had come very handy over the years as he waited patiently for his business plans to take form and to get him to where he was today. Patience had been a virtue for him, when he had been competing with Cora and they would wait nervously for the results to come back, finding out for the hundredth or so time they had won. Patience though, were not being his virtue, while he waited for the couple to arrive for their private lesson. Glancing over his shoulder after looking at his watch, Rumald grumbled seeing it was nearly half past five.

Muttering to himself about their tardiness, Rumald strode over to the sound system and selected some music from the playlists. He did not care for the song or the genre, and selected the first song on the first playlist he came to in the lists. The speakers in the corners of the room burst to life, booming out a guitar acoustic song. As he listened to the song, Rumald wandered over to the glass wall and looked down into the reception area.

The children had finished their class and were now filling out of the studio below, greeting their parents or exiting straight out of the front doors. Their excited chatter from below drowned out the song he was playing in the studio. Rumald smiled at their enthusiasm, remembering what it was like at their age and loving every class his aunts had paid for him to attend.

He owed his aunts everything. They had graciously taken him in, when his father and nobody else had wanted him. They never had much, but they had done their best to make sure he had the best education and was a well-mannered young boy. A brief thought of how they would not be proud of him now, crossed his mind. If they had known any of the dealings or even about Cora and the circumstances, they would not have been pleased with him. There were many things in his life, he was not proud of and Cora was number one.

“Hi.” Came a young woman’s voice from the doorway to the studio. “Sorry, we’re late.” Her feet scuffed the floor as she approached him and Rumald shuffled his feet to face her and look at her. “I got caught up at work.” She told him, offering her hand to him. “Belle French.”

“Mr Gold.” Rumald introduced himself, taking her soft small hand in his own to shake.

He swallowed hard at the sudden lump in his throat. She was downright, absolutely, most definitely, the most beautiful woman he had ever seen in his life. Some of her brown hair was drawn back into a small ponytail, while most of her hair hung loose around her shoulders. His hand itched with the temptation to touch the smooth, silky looking hair and to curl a piece of it around his finger. Her eyes captured him and drowned him in her deep blue pools, making him breathless at the sight of her.

There was a loud bang of something being dropped to the floor. Rumald tore his eyes away from her, though he chanced a quick glimpse at her again, to see her partner drop to the floor to remove his sneakers. His physique and looks told his story in one look: high school quarter back, ladies’ man. Puzzled, Rumald looked between the two of them, trying to figure out how the bookworm, a very beautiful bookworm, ended up with the quarter back.

“The things I do for you.” The man grumbled feeding his feet into his shoes.

She waved a hand at his comment and smiled at Rumald, making his knees feel weak, as she said. “He doesn’t understand, why he can’t dance in his sneakers.”

“Because they will mark the floor.” Rumald stated on autopilot, feeling incapable of making a snide remark in her presence.

“I doubt it.” The man commented getting to his feet and came over to join them, holding his hand out to Rumald. “Gaston Phipps.”

“Phipps?” Rumald repeated, shaking Gaston’s hand. “22 Dovetail Avenue?”

“Err… Yeah.” Gaston gave Rumald a questioning look.

Rumald pulled the best smile he could, but it did not feel right, as he said. “I’m your landlord.”

“Mr Gold?” Gaston asked, but had already taken a hasty step back from Rumald, retracting his hand from Rumald’s.

“That’s right, dearie.” Rumald spun away from them and marched to the sound system before he twirled round to say. “And you’re over half an hour late for your class.”

Belle gave him that smile again, as she started walking towards him, saying. “Yes, like I said, it’s all my fault. I was cataloguing and…”

Rumald waved his hand fiercely at her, halting her from taking another step towards him. “I appreciate punctuality, Miss French. My time is precious to me and is not a commodity I tend to waste.”

“Hey, wait a second, pal.” Gaston pointed his finger at Rumald. “We’ve paid for these lessons, so if we want to waste them then that’s our business. If you’ve got a prob…”

Belle cut him off by turning into him and placing her hand on his chest. “Gaston, he’s right. We shouldn’t waste his time.” She half turned to look at Rumald. “I’m sorry. It won’t happen again. I promise.”

Bowing his head graciously at her, Rumald scrutinised her. There was a small twang as she spoke, sounding Australian in origin. His mind quickly matched her to Maurice French, the owner of the florist shop in Storybrooke. Maurice had moved to Storybrooke about four years ago and had set up the ‘Game of Thorns’, and had amassed considerable amount of debt with Rumald. It was widely known that Maurice was a widower, but there had never been mention of a daughter. Though, if Rumald had a daughter as beautiful as Belle, he would not mention that fact either. She would be safely locked away in a tower and all suitors would be killed on sight.

“So…” Rumald clapped his hands in front of himself, leaving them together as though he was praying. “What exactly has Regina taught you so far?”

“Not a lot.” Gaston griped, crossing his arms across his chest.

Belle bit her lip in thought for a second, capturing all of Rumald’s attention for that second, and said. “We had one lesson with her last week. She had us walking back and forth, getting the position of ours arms correct.”

Turning away briefly, Rumald put on a random piece of music and said to them. “Right, let me see that.”

“Again?” Gaston exasperated, dropped his arms down to his sides.

“Come on.” Belle grabbed one of Gaston’s hands and pulled him a short distance away from Rumald, to take up their dance positions. Clasping his hands behind his back, Rumald watched as Belle positioned their arms, seeing Gaston reluctance. A corner of Rumald’s lips curled into half a smile, knowing instantly who had wanted the dance classes and who did not. They began to walk forwards together and then after three steps, retook those steps backwards.

Allowing himself to amble the edge of the room, Rumald observed them, looking at their arm positions, their feet, their form. All of it was off and so it should be for two people, who were learning to dance. However, Rumald could see more deeper than just what was on the surface. As much as he had told Leroy and Astrid, they were not compatible because of Leroy’s height, Belle and Gaston were so far from being compatible, it screamed from them. But then, who was Rumald to get in the way of ‘True Love’. He rolled his eyes to himself, looking at himself in the mirror to pull a face at the thought of love.

“Ow!” Belle cried.

Rumald turned away from his reflection to see Belle balancing herself with a hand on Gaston, rubbing at the toes of her right foot. He marched over to them and joined them as Belle put her foot back down on the floor. Opening his mouth to speak, Rumald suddenly could not find any words as he met her blue azure eyes, daring him to dive into their deep depths.

“What?” Gaston blurted at him, breaking the spell over Rumald.

Gesturing with his hands for them to retake position, Rumald began readjusting the position of their arms. He placed his hand over their joined hands and lowered it down, and then drifted round to Belle’s back to move Gaston’s hand further up her back. His breath hitched feeling this thumb trace over her back, her blouse the only thing keeping him from touching her skin. Taking his hand away, Rumald looked at his hand and knitted his brow at the sight of her blouse clad back. 

“Try to keep your arms and hands in these positions.” Rumald schooled them, moving to a spot where they both could see him. “Now, you have to remember the man leads, so Gaston, remember not to let her do all the work.”

“She’s the one, who keeps trying to lead.” Gaston professed, trying to pass the buck.

Belle scowled her features up at Gaston. “You start to lead and then give up.”

“Look,” Rumald placed his hands on either of their shoulders, bringing their attention to him. “It’s quite simple. Gaston, take three steps forward and three steps back. Belle,” He had to remind himself to breath, when he met her eyes. “It’s totally up to you, whether you choose to follow him, but at least give him a chance to lead.”

She nodded her head at him a few times, acknowledging what he had said to her and looked up to meet Gaston’s eyes, giving the hulk of a man a small smile. Backing away from them, Rumald observed them as Gaston counted to three and they stepped together, moving without fighting one another. He was watching their feet, counting the steps in his head, when he found himself looking more at her feet. They were petite little feet in the flat shoes she wore. Allowing his eyes to trail up the calf of her leg, Rumald was sure if she was to wear heels, she would have killer legs with the heels accentuating the curve of her calf perfectly. His brow lifted slightly at the thought of running his hand up her calf, sure the skin would soft and inviting.

“Is this okay, Mr Gold?” Belle asked, following Gaston flawlessly.

“Oh, yes.” Rumald mumbled, his eyes still on her legs. “Very nice.”

Gaston twisted his head to look at Rumald. “Can we start dancing now?”

Startled where his thoughts were heading, Rumald beamed a smile at them to hide his shock from them and said. “Mr Phipps, you’re already dancing.”

“What?” Gaston looked confused as he looked between Rumald and down between them.

“Oh, yeah.” Belle broke out into a full blown smile. “We’re dancing, Gaston!”

“Basic, but yes.” Rumald said trying to avoid staring at her smile.

He would quite happily crawl over burning coals just to see her smile. Her face lit up like no one he had ever seen before when they smiled. Her smile was mesmerising, beaming like the sun, threatening to blind you the longer you stared. He knew as he ogled her, he would not need a photograph to remember how she looked when she smiled, her face would forever be with him.

Belle bounced up and down, excited, from Gaston’s arms and approached Rumald. “What can we learn next?”

Rapidly blinking his eyes, Rumald was lost yet again within his own thoughts. “Erm…” A quick look at the clock, Rumald was grateful to see their time was up. “We’ll start with the foxtrot next lesson.”

“Ooo…” She bewitched him with her smile again. “I can’t wait!”

“You’re going to be insufferable.” Gaston grumbled with his back to them, trudging his way over to where he had tossed his sneakers earlier.

“I like to learn new things.” Belle defended herself, hurriedly walking over to where Gaston waited for her by the door, his sneakers hooked on his fingers.

Rumald buttoned his suit jacket, needing something other than Belle to focus himself on, as he told them. “Remember, don’t be late on Thursday.”

“We won’t.” She called back and then made an ‘Oh’ sound before saying. “Thank you for today, Mr Gold.”

A genuine smile twitched the corners of his lips as he raised his gaze to see her wave at him from the doorway and then she was gone. Rumald was left stunned, his eyes on the open doorway. ‘ _What the hell was that?’_ , he thought to himself. As he mulled over what had just happened, Rumald crossed the room to look out the window onto the street below. They came out of the dance studio together with Belle slipping her arm around Gaston’s. Surveying them from above, Rumald could not take his eyes off of her as they crossed the street to the other sidewalk and disappeared around the corner into Main Street.

Rumald let his eyes fall to the floor and rested his arm against the window above him, leaning his weight fully onto the glass. He had never had a woman make him turn his head as she had done. A woman had never distracted him as much as Belle had in the hour and half they had spent together. With Milah, it had been young love and accidental pregnancy. His infatuation with Cora had been driven by loneliness, wanting her more than needing her. So Rumald had no idea what exactly he was feeling as he stood there thinking about Belle French, contemplating her beauty and enthralling smile. Maybe it was loneliness driving him, making him want something he could not have again. Rumald closed his eyes to his thoughts, cursing and hating himself for tormenting himself.

Leaning off the glass and letting his arm slide off the glass, Rumald pivoted away from the window and went to where he had left his overcoat. With his overcoat hung over his forearm, he reminded himself that he was enemy of love and would not fall for the power of the four letter word. Because, what had love ever brought him apart from heartache? Pain was the answer and he did not want any more of that. Not in this lifetime or the next.


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The second private session with Belle and Gaston, and Rumald comes to a conclusion.

With his overcoat already hung over his forearm, Rumald entered the dance studio to glance either side to see one studio was empty and other had a couple waltzing around the room. He observed them through the glass as he crossed to the reception desk, where Mal was sat and was also watching the couple in the dance studio. She raised her hand pointing to studio D above them without looking at him. Understanding her meaning, Rumald headed straight pass the desk and climbed the stairs, watching the couple dance until they were out of sight.

Rumald walked into the studio to find Belle sat on the floor, her back resting against the mirror wall, a book between her hands. Tilting his head as he regarded her, Rumald could see she was completely lost within the novel she was reading. His body relaxed at the sight of her. He breathed in deeply, feeling a weight had been lifted from his chest.

Since their meeting on Tuesday, Rumald had learnt she was the head librarian of the town library, working and living less than a hundred yards away from him, everyday. He had been unable to comprehend how he had never seen her before, when Dove had told him, Belle had been working at the library for the past seven months. It was the only building in town, he did not own, so that explained why he had never met her. The fact she came and went from the building every day, probably had crossed paths with him at some point or had strolled by him on the other side of the street, was what confused him. Because Rumald knew, if he had seen her around town, he would have seen her.

Studying her from where he stood, Rumald had to agree with his earlier musings of her as he had tried in vain to get some work done. He suspected Belle and Gaston had moved to Storybrooke, because of her father and his debts. The supportive daughter coming to rescue her father. It was a pointless endeavour, but he had to give Belle credit for trying. Her father was a terrible businessman and an even worse poker player. Cards and luck were never on his side. Rumald knew, the debt burdening her father would soon consume the other man and Rumald would be force to take all of Maurice’s worldly belongings.

“Oh, Mr Gold!” She had finally looked up from her book and saw him stood in the doorway, and hastily clambered off the floor. “Sorry, I was lost in my book.”

“No matter.” Rumald waved off her apology, while he tried to understand why she had plagued his dreams, harassed his thoughts and distracted him so much.

Belle wiped consciously at the back and the front of her skirt. “I was early, so I thought I would get a chapter or two in before you arrived.”

“No Mr Phipps?” Rumald inquired heading across the room to the sound system, delivering his coat to sit on the stool.

“He should be here any minute.” Belle looked expectantly to the door and then to Rumald. “He’s the assistant football coach at the high school. They have an after school session on Thursdays.”

“As long as he's not as late as you were on Tuesday.” Rumald commented as he picked the foxtrot playlist on the sound system.

The music began to play as Belle said. “He should be here any minute. I promise.”

“We’ll see.” Rumald cracked a smile for her, seeing she was unease as she glanced unsurely at the doorway to the studio. Removing his suit jacket to lay over his overcoat, he let his eyes reside on her, while her attention was elsewhere.

The bookworm and the jock – They did not fit together. No matter how he tried to see them, the more Rumald felt they should not be together. Not because of his sudden interest in her, which he could not understand, but because she was better than him. There was something off about Gaston, he could sense it like he did when he was making deals with people. Rumald had always had a good sense about people and Gaston was just… wrong.

“Hey, babe.” Gaston thudded into the room and dumped a large gym bag onto the floor. The noise forced Rumald out of his thoughts and his attention to shift to Gaston.

“There he is.” Belle beamed at the sight of Gaston, hastily approaching him to kiss him.

Turning away from the sight of them, Rumald rolled his eyes and sighed heavily before he said. “If you can quickly change into your shoes, Mr Phipps, I’d like to get started as soon as possible.”

“If I want to spend twenty minutes, changing into my shoes, I will.” Gaston rebuked as he toed off his sneakers.

“It won’t take you that long.” Belle had already retrieved his shoes from his bag and was offering them to Gaston. “I can’t wait to get started.” She shared with Gaston in attempt to get her fiancé to hurry into his shoes.

Taking his time, just like he had said, Gaston put each shoe on at an excruciating slow pace. Rumald stood silently watching the other man crouched down on the floor, tying his shoe laces, with his hands clasped behind his back, restraining himself from teaching Gaston some manners. Belle excitedly jigged from foot to foot, bouncing her gaze back and forth between Gaston and Rumald.

Finally, Gaston stood up and took a couple of steps to stand beside Belle. “Come on then. Let’s get this over with.”

“As long as you’re sure, Mr Phipps.” Rumald let go of his left hand and held his watch up in front of himself to fake looking at the time. “We do have another hour and forty-five minutes that you can waste, if you like?”

Gaston pulled a tight smile at Rumald, his irritation written over his face. “No, Mr Gold. You can start your lesson now.”

“Sure?” He asked returning Gaston’s fake smile.

“Yes.” Gaston was blunt with his reply.

“Good.” Rumald marched into the middle of the room and pointed to two spots on the floor. “If you can stand here and face the mirror.”

They followed his instruction and stood on the spots he had pointed out to them. Belle eagerly took her spot, while Gaston and Rumald exchanged a look between them. Rumald knew the look and normally did not respond well to it. Deciding to behave himself, mostly for Regina’s sake, Rumald moved to stand in the space between them and pivoted round to face the mirror with them.

“Gaston, we’ll start with you.” Rumald tapped the top of his left leg. “You start on your left leg and take two steps forward like this.” He demonstrated. “Then two quick steps to the left.” He took the quick steps, his eyes on Gaston in the mirror. “Did you get that?”

“Easy.” Gaston smirked as he did the steps Rumald had just shown him. “See.”

With his right hand, Rumald motioned for Gaston to follow him back to their start positions and said. “Yes, but at the pace I showed you. Like this.” Rumald demonstrated the steps again for Gaston. “Now you.”

Gaston did the steps exactly how Rumald had shown him. “Happy?”

“Much better.” Rumald told him before returning back to his starting position to address Belle. “Miss French, you are the opposite to Mr Phipps. Instead of leading forward with your left leg, you step back with your right leg and do the opposite movement to Mr Phipps.”

“Like this?” She asked as she performed the steps perfectly, causing Rumald to smile at her.

“Perfect.” He praised her. Looking up from her feet, Belle released her smile upon him and Rumald lost all coherent thought. He happily drowned himself into her eyes, allowing himself to forget about Gaston and their surroundings.

“Teacher’s pet.” Gaston threw at Belle, who was retaking her position a couple of feet from Rumald.

Belle shrugged her shoulders at Gaston’s comment, but her smile did not waiver. “I’m just good at listening.”

“Yes, listening helps.” Rumald struggled to tear himself away from looking at Belle. “Just practise those steps a couple of times.” He mumbled to them, wandering away from them to compose himself.

Running the fingers of his right hand through his short grey hair, Rumald closed his eyes facing the wall near the sound system and reprimanded himself. This could not go on. How the hell was he supposed to teach them, if she could distract him so easily? He let out a very quiet groan, letting his hand follow a path down the back of his head to his neck. Squeezing the skin at the back of his neck, he took a breath or two, still confused as to why she had this effect on him. ‘ _Must be a witch.’_ , Rumald told himself as he turned round to observe them doing their steps.

“Okay,” Rumald said after a while to draw their attention to him and walked over to them. “Let’s put this together.”

Eager, Belle held up her hands ready to take up position with Gaston, who plodded the short distance to her and met her left hand with his hand as he roughly brought her closer to him. Rumald held back from saying anything. He reminded himself she was not his, she was Gaston’s. She had chosen him. She must have been used to way he treated her and probably liked it, otherwise why be with him. Rumald knew he would never treat her like that. She would be worshipped, treated with kindness and respect, not as a possession. Belle deserved to be treated like the lady she was, not some common woman. 

Moving round them, Rumald tried to forget his train of thought and readjusted their hands and arms, and forced Gaston to stand up straighter, saying. “Your posture is terrible.”

“Excuse me?” Gaston sounded insulted, craning to look at Rumald over his shoulder.

“You’re slouching.” Rumald explained placing a hand on Gaston’s upper back and onto his stomach, and pushed to straighten Gaston’s back again. “You want to keep your back as straight as possible.”

“Do you mind?” Gaston said, irritated by Rumald touching him.

Rumald then, just because he was liking how irritated Gaston sounded, put his finger under Gaston’s chin and raised Gaston head. “Chin up.”

Gaston snatched his head away from Rumald’s touch and jumped away from Belle. “What the hell are you doing?”

“Correcting your posture.” Rumald clasped his hands together in front of himself, amused with Gaston’s reaction.

“We’re here to dance. Not for you to get all touchy feely with me.” Gaston scrunched his face at Rumald. “I’m not into guys.”

Holding back his need to laugh, Rumald wearily waved his left hand through the air, stating. “I am doing no more than teaching you both how to dance and posture is an important thing when you’re dancing. I’m sure, a man like you, Mr Phipps, would not want to appear weak.”

“I’m not weak.” Gaston proclaimed, his chest inflated at the mention of being weak.

“Exactly, so having good posture, projects confidence and strength.” Rumald informed him, while seeing exactly what Gaston was – pathetic.

“And stops backache.” Belle added. Twisting to see her beside him, Rumald swallowed seeing the small smile she gave him.

Rumald nodded his head in agreement. “That it does.”

“Really?” Gaston unsurely questioned them.

“Do I project weakness to you, when you see me around town?” Rumald queried, clasping his hands in front of himself again.

“No.” Gaston replied quickly.

“Exactly, because I have good posture.” Waving his hands, Rumald gestured for them to retake their positions. “We’ve got half an hour to try this.”

Gaston reluctantly closed the space with Belle and took her back into his arms, suspiciously watching Rumald as he corrected Gaston’s posture again. Moving round to Belle, Rumald ran his eyes down her body, projecting he was checking her posture. Without hesitation, he placed a hand on her lower back and gently pushed, and she easily allowed him to straighten her back further. Although, he had to admit to himself, her posture was perfect, he just took advantage of the chance to touch her. The only problem was, as he took a couple of steps away from her, Rumald wanted to keep touching her. He wanted to run his hand down the length of her leg, tracing his fingers down the delicate curve of her calf.

“Now, what?” Gaston asked, intruding Rumald’s fantasy.

“Do your steps.” Rumald instructed with a slight tone of annoyance in his voice.

They started to perform their steps together after Gaston counted to three, leading them off with his left foot. The two traipsed across the floor together, heading towards the sound system in the corner of the room. When they neared the wall, they turned and started off again. Rumald silently watched them, stood in the middle of the room.

“Chin up, back straight, Mr Phipps.” He called across the room, when Gaston dropped his gaze down to his feet.

Without complaint, Gaston lifted his chin and straightened his back. A corner of Rumald’s lips curled into a smile, enjoying his new power over Gaston. Rumald edged himself round, following them as they danced from wall to wall. He tried to avoid catching sight of her smile and being distracted from his task, even if he did like to see she was enjoying herself. If he could, he would make Gaston dance forever, if it would keep her smile on her face. Though, Rumald would rather be the one dancing with her and making her smile, while she followed his lead. As the thought crossed his mind, his brow pressed down over his eyes in confusion, unsure where these thoughts kept coming from.

Rumald turned his head to check the time on the wall and said. “And that’s the end of class.”

“Is it?” Belle disappointedly asked.

“Thank god.” Gaston moaned, hurriedly heading to his large gym bag and sneakers.

“Sadly, yes.” Rumald replied to Belle’s question and turned to see the disappointment on her face. There was a sharp pain in chest at the sight of her displeasure. His hand started to raise up from his side to offer to dance with her, but he quickly withdrew his hand and shoved it deep into the pocket of his pants.

“Two hours is not enough.” Belle griped passing by Rumald to go to where she had left her bag and coat.

Gaston made a disgruntled noise and said. “Two hours is too much.”

As Belle had passed by Rumald, he had caught the fragrance of her perfume and had followed her, turning in the direction she had headed. She must have bewitched him, he thought to himself as she bent over to collect her bag and coat from the floor. He stopped breathing and stared. The hem of her skirt hiked higher briefly, revealing the lower half of her thighs to him, shrouded in her black tights. His hand retained by his pants pocket tightened into a fist, desperate to hold onto his resolve as her skirt gradually recovered her thighs from him. His heart thudded against his ribs, desperate to escape from chest and give itself to her.

“See you on Tuesday, Mr Gold.” She called to him, throwing the straps to her bag over her shoulder and carried her coat over her left arm.

“Yes.” He muttered, absently waving his free hand at her.

Gaston had already left the room and Rumald was thankful, so he could blatantly watch her leave the room. His chest heaved after being breathless for so long or because he was becoming hot under the collar, Rumald was not sure. All he knew was he wanted her. Loneliness or lusting, he did not care for the reason why, he just knew he wanted. With the little voice inside of his head, reminding him once again that she was Gaston’s, Rumald crossed to the window and caught sight of her as Gaston and her turned the corner onto Main Street.


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> At the end of his first week teaching, Rumald decides to go for a quick drink at the Rabbit Hole and overhears a conversation.

Pushing open the glass door to the dance studio, Rumald stepped out into the cool evening air and tugged at the lapels of his overcoat. His first week of covering Regina’s lessons was over and he was glad. Although, seeing the looks on the students faces, when they came face to face with him, realising he was their substitute teacher, still amused him. The satisfaction of seeing the horror on their faces would never get old. Smirking at the thought, Rumald started off down the sidewalk with a chilled breeze ruffling through his short greying hair.

The week had been tiresome, however, Rumald had to admit he had been enjoying himself. Teaching dance had just sort of happened over the years after he had become adept at dancing. He had covered a class or two for his teacher at the time and gradually it had become a permanent position. It was how he had met Cora. She had joined his beginners class and had been so eager to learn from him. Very quickly, it had gone from classes to private lessons, spending most of their free time together with the kids in toe. And now, he regretted every minute he had spent with that woman.

As usual, his thoughts of Cora were bringing on a need for alcohol. He was about to cross the street, when he spotted the lit sign for the Rabbit Hole further down the street. Normally, he would never set foot in the establishment, unless he was collecting their rent money. His shoulders raised and fell as he thought, ‘ _why not?’,_ and carried on down the sidewalk to the Rabbit Hole.

Rumald eyed the bouncer, who eyed him in return, and pulled the door open to be hit by the unique smell of the Rabbit Hole. The smell always repulsed him - stale liquor mixed with God knows what else. Breathing through his mouth, he promised himself, he would have one drink and leave. He negotiated his way to the bar and took a seat on a stool, peering round at the other patrons, who were sat at the tables or dancing on the other side of the room. Rumald could not help his gaze loitering on the people dancing, remembering the dates he had taken Milah out dancing. She had always looked so free on the dancefloor.

“Mr Gold, what can I get you?” The bartender asked walking behind the bar, carrying a tray of empty glasses.

“Large whiskey.” Rumald replied shifting on his stool to face the bar, avoiding the memories on the dancefloor.

The bartender abandoned the tray of empty glasses and retrieved a glass from under the counter of the bar. “Anything particular?”

“No cheap shit.” He told the bartender as he dipped his hand into his pants pocket to retrieve his money clip.

“Yes, sir.” The bartender turned his back to Rumald and filled the glass with whiskey before delivering it to Rumald.

Rumald tossed a ten-dollar bill onto the counter. “Keep the change.”

“Thank you, sir.” The bartender took the money and left Rumald alone.

Drinking some of the whiskey, Rumald pulled a face as the liquor burned as it went down. He placed his glass down onto the bar, knowing he should have waited until he got back to the shop. Rumald slightly shook his head and grimaced at the aftertaste of the whiskey.

“It’s so stupid.” Came a familiar voice from the other end of the bar. Turning his head to see them, Rumald could see Gaston stood with another man at the bar, his back to Rumald.

“If you didn’t want to do it, why did you agree?” The other man asked, waving his hand to get the attention of the bartender.

Gaston drank from his beer and tipped it right back to finish off the dregs in the bottom of his bottle, and said placing the empty bottle on the bar. “She wouldn’t shut up about it. Some stupid dream of hers or something.”

“Could be worse.” His friend nudged his elbow into Gaston’s side. “She could want to do Dirty Dancing.”

“She gets enough dirty dancing between the sheets.” Gaston joked slinging his arm around his friend’s shoulders and jovially pulled his friend about.

Rumald dropped his gaze to the disgusting whiskey in his glass. He had managed to not think about her all day and had been pleased with himself. As he had stood at the shop window, dusting the items on display, he had not been peering at the library from the corner of his eye, in case he caught a glimpse of her. When he had gone to Grannies for lunch, Rumald had not been glancing over his shoulder at the library, hoping she might go to lunch at the same time. Nope, he had not done any of these things at all. Well, that was what he had kept telling himself as he had done them.

Lifting his glass to his lips, he sipped some more of the awful whiskey and licked his lips together after he swallowed, trying to work the taste from his mouth. He hunched himself forward onto the bar with his elbows, peeping slyly in the direction of Gaston and his friend, who were waiting for their order.

“Mr Gold?” His friend repeated in surprise. “Mr Gold is teaching you to dance?”

Gaston shrugged his shoulders. “Miss Mills arranged for him to cover, while she’s away.” He smiled at his friend. “I was so looking forward to dancing with her.”

“Yeah, horizontal dancing.” His friend laughed, while Rumald imagined throwing his glass at them.

His grip around his glass tightened, as Gaston said. “Belle’s been researching him.” Rumald froze. “He’s won a lot of dance competitions.”

“Really?” The friend questioned, thanking the bartender as he handed him the money for their drinks.

“You’d have to ask her. I fell asleep when she was telling me about it.” Gaston grabbed a bottle of beer and one of the glasses from the drinks the bartender had given them. They ambled away from the bar together, disappearing into the occupied tables, leaving Rumald alone at the bar.

His brow twitched as he mulled over what they had been saying at the other end of the bar. Slowly Rumald leant his weight off of the bar and let his lips form into a small smile, picturing her sat in front of a computer, trolling through the internet to find out more information about him. It did not mean anything to him, it intrigued him, that was all.

 _‘Why?’_ , Rumald asked himself, ‘ _Why was she interested?’_.

It did not mean anything, became Rumald’s mantra as he pushed away his thoughts of Belle and knocked back the rest of his drink. He was stupid. This was stupid. Everything he was thinking and feeling was stupid. There was nothing more to it. She was simply interested in knowing more about her teacher, needing to know he was qualified to teach them. That was what it was and nothing more. He was thinking too much about it and her. There was no other reason why she was researching him. He was just being foolish, Rumald told himself slipping off his stool to leave.

Pulling his overcoat closed around him, Rumald easily navigated his way through the tables, keeping his eyes on the door, avoiding his need to search the crowd for her. He grabbed the handle of the door and snatched the door open. Two girls on the other side of the door yelped, when the door suddenly opened and revealed him to them. Rumald stepped back opening the door wider and gestured for them to come through the door. They sheepishly stepped through the threshold with their eyes on Rumald, scared he would attack them, and hurried away from him when the opportunity presented itself. He rolled his eyes at them, reminding himself how he really hated people at times.

Rumald went to take a step, but halted, when he saw her in the far corner of the bar. She was stood with her friend, nursing a drink in her hands as she laughed and smiled. The din in the Rabbit Hole muted as he stared at her, still holding the door open. Her hand came up to touch her friend on the arm, igniting a swell of jealousy in him. She should have been touching him with her delicate fingers, her eyes on him as they talked and laughed. He would have given anything in that moment, if it meant he got five minutes of her time. Other people came into the bar and laughed at him holding the door, and whispered about him as they walked to the bar. Rumald did not care what they said about him. The days where he cared what others thought about him had ended long ago, but her… He cared what she thought and that surprised him out of his daydream.

He straightened his back and quickly ducked out of the bar, bursting out of the bar onto the sidewalk. The bouncer gave him a strange look as Rumald headed straight across the street, wanting to put as much distance as he could between them. He touched a hand to his cheek and then to his neck, feeling the heat emanate from him. It was because the evening was so cool, Rumald told himself, needing another reason than it was her. He widened his eyes at his thoughts, shaken by how much of an effect she was having on him – physically and mentally – and he did not even know her.


	6. Chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Rumald arrives at the dance studio for the private session, while Belle and Gaston have an argument and Gaston leaves Belle and Rumald alone together.

Rumald was in a rush as he locked the rear door to the shop and jogged through into the front of his shop to leave. His day had gone from bad to worse, all because he had needed a very long and extra cold shower that morning. All weekend she had been with him in his thoughts. She would not leave him alone and he was beginning to think he was going crazy. There was no reason why she would have plagued him the way she was. Yes, she was beautiful, breathtakingly beautiful, but Rumald had met plenty of beautiful women in his lifetime. He had danced with many of them and had regarded some of them from a far. None of which, were constantly on his mind and invading his dreams.

He had been sat in a town meeting, listening to Sheriff Nolan inform them of the group of teenagers, who were vandalising the school after hours, when she had come into the room. His brow had raised at the sight of her, captured helplessly by her. She had walked into the room like she had owned it, wearing a very tight fitting blue dress, which had stopped midway down her thigh, and wore a pair of dark blue heels. He should have known, what she had been wearing was a little inappropriate for a town meeting. But he had lost himself to the sight of her and had sat back into his chair, basking in her attention as she approached him. She had leant onto the table in front of him, giving him full access to see down into her cleavage, while she claimed his tie from his waistcoat, pulled it out, to use it as leverage to pull him forward in his chair. Rumald had let out a small moan as their lips had come close to touching. It had been at this point, Sheriff Nolan, had started him by touching his arm. He had tried to wave off their questioning looks. Excusing himself with a poor excuse, Rumald had left the meeting for the sanctuary of his shop.

Shoving his keys into his pocket, Rumald wrapped his overcoat around himself and kept his eyes down on the sidewalk. He was not going to be distracted. He was going to go the dance school, he was going teach them and then he was going straight home. That was it!

He took a breath and let out a low growl before he opened the door to enter the dance studio. There was a couple dancing in the studio on his left and the studio on his right had a class of kids. Rumald recognised some of the kids from the previous week. Slowing his pace, he watched them as they did the Viennese Waltz around the room. He had probably been a bit younger than them, when he had first started dancing.

“Your couple for the private class are already upstairs.” Mal informed him, bringing his attention away from the kids to look at her. He was surprised to find her stood beside him, sure she had been sat behind the reception desk when he had entered.

“Have they been here long?” He questioned, returning his gaze to the kids.

“Five minutes.” She replied to him.

Bowing his head at the information, Rumald took a step back and went to walk by her, when she said. “I thought you would let her down by now.”

He turned to look at Mal, who was facing the dance class, and told her. “I don’t break deals.”

She did not say anything to him or even showed him any outward sign she had heard him. Leaving it at that, Rumald left her and headed upstairs. As he climbed the second set of stairs, Rumald removed his overcoat and folded it as he entered the room. On entering the room, he noticed the couple were huddled in the opposite corner of the room. He raised an eyebrow at them, while he crossed the room to the sound system and placed his coat on the stool. In the middle of removing his suit jacket, he twisted round to see them, when he heard Gaston raise his voice at Belle.

“Belle, I really don’t want to!” Gaston shouted, flinging an arm into the air.

Belle scowled up at him and pointed to the door. “There’s the door. Leave then.”

“No!” He yelled at her. “Because you’ll only moan about it later.”

“If you don’t want to take the class, then leave! I’m not making you stay!” She threw at him, forcefully waving her arm in the direction of the door to emphasise what she was saying.

Rumald’s smile was wide, pushing back his cheeks, while they argued with Gaston saying. “Oh, you would like that, wouldn’t you?”

“Gaston,” Belle propped her hands onto her hips. “I’m serious. If you don’t want to be here, then go!”

“Fine!” Gaston exclaimed at her. Stomping by her, Gaston grabbed his things from where they were on the floor and stamped out of the room. At the door, he glared back at Belle before descending the stairs and out of sight.

Stood with his suit jacket halfway down his arms, Rumald did not know where he was supposed to look, while Belle had her back to him. She seemed to have forgotten the mirror wall in front of her. Through the mirror, Rumald could see she was wiping unshed tears from her eyes, probably disappointed her fiancé did not want to learn dance with her. To Rumald, it was not a new situation. When he had been teaching couples in the past, there had always been one or two husbands or partners, who had been reluctant to learn. Stupidly thinking it would make them look gay, which Rumald had found was the total opposite as he was growing up.

“I’m sorry about that.” Belle apologised after turning round to face him.

Struggling to get his suit jacket off of his arms, Rumald shook his head at her. “There’s no need to apologise.” When he freed himself from his jacket, he huffed at his annoyance and said. “Especially not to me.”

“No, we shouldn’t have been arguing here.” Belle pushed on with her apology, walking over to join him at the sound system, where he was shaking out the creases from his suit jacket.

“I can guarantee you, no couple ever plans to have arguments in public.” He tried to put her at ease, saying. “I’m sure there were plenty of times my ex-wife and I fought in public.”

Belle looked dumbfounded. “Ex-wife? You were married?”

Rumald smiled crookedly at her, amused by her reaction. “Once, yes. And to a woman as well.”

“I…” She stuttered at him. “I didn’t… I mean, I wasn’t…”

Waving his hand at her, he turned away from her to lay his suit jacket over his overcoat on the stool. “I doubt you have thought much about, Miss French.” He said to her, turning back round to face her. “As much as Mr Phipps insinuated I was gay last week. I can tell you, Miss French, that I am very interested in women.”

“I’m sorry, he shouldn’t have said that to you.” She apologised again, stepping towards him, closing the gap between them.

The fragrance of her perfume lured him to incline himself forward, tempting him to come closer. Knowing he was about to be distracted by her, Rumald whipped himself round to face the sound system and reached over it to select the foxtrot playlist. He stayed hunched over the sound system as the first song started to play, taking a moment to let out a long drawn out breath. He would not be distracted. She would not distract him.

Focusing himself, Rumald turned back to her, saying. “You really need to stop apologising.”

“What?” Belle straightened her back, caught off guard by him.

“And don’t apologise for him as well.” His face screwed up at his thoughts as he said to her. “It really is unbecoming of you.”

“Excuse me?” Her voice raised slightly at him.

As much as Rumald was doing his best not to get distracted by her, he really could not take his eyes off of her. She was annoyed with him and he found himself liking it. Her shoulders were tense, her hands were stubbornly on her hips and she was glaring at him like she wanted to stab a thousand daggers into his heart. It was the first time he had seen his goddess transform into a vixen and she was even more stunning.

Waltzing by her, Rumald said to her as he crossed to the middle of the room. “Every lesson, so far, you have felt the need to apologise to me.” He spun round to face her. “And don’t apologise for him again, ever. I don’t want you belittling yourself down to his level.”

“That’s my fiancé you’re talking about.” She reminded him, frowning angrily at him.

“Which is even more reason, why he should want to do these classes with you.” He hit her hard, he knew he had, seeing her physically take a step back.

Belle blinked her eyes a couple of times, processing what he had said to her. His words had been blunt, Rumald knew that, but they were blunt because they were the truth. If she was his, he would gladly give up everything to do whatever she wanted. Rumald would throw himself at the chance of spending more time with her, if she was his. It would kill him, if he had to spend time away from her, needing to be in her presence to be able to breath. That was, if she was his. There would be no way, Rumald would be arguing with her over her wanting them to spend quality time together. The only thing he would argue with her about, would be that he wanted to spend every waking moment with her. Needed to be with her every second, so he could protect her and be there for her. Of course, that was if she was his and not someone else’s.

Waving a hand through the air, Rumald wafted his thoughts away and offered his hand out to her in one flourish movement. “Come on, dearie, I don’t have all day.”

Time stood still as she studied him, her eyes pried into him, seeking the truth from him. He held his ground, masking himself in confidence. Her eyes squinted at him, wanting to delve deeper into his soul, prevented by the mask he wore. His arm was beginning to ache the longer he held it out to her, inviting her to come closer and into his arms.

Belle finally took a brave step towards him. Seeing her take another step, Rumald let a corner of his mouth turn up into half a smile and reminded himself to breath as she placed her hand into his offered hand. Her hand was cool in his, soft and delicate like it had been when they shook hands at their first lesson. His thumb caressed over the backs of her fingers as he coaxed her to come even closer to him and placed her hand onto his shoulder, and held up his other hand to her. She was still studying him whilst she placed her into his expectant hand. Gently, with a hand on her back, Rumald drew her even closer to him, meeting her gaze at the same time.

Placing his hand flat onto her back, just below her left shoulder blade, Rumald greedily breathed her in and said. “To finish the lesson from last week,” He paused to tell himself to breath. “I’ll show you how to do a turn using the foxtrot steps.”

“Turn.” She repeated looking up at him.

Her fingers latched gently around his hand as he explained. “I will start on the left to which you’ll step back with your right.” Using the frame of their arms, Rumald persuaded her to take a step back as he stepped forward. “Then, I’ll step back onto my right.” She moved easily with him. “A small turn to the left with two quick steps to the left.” They moved effortlessly together. “Perfect.”

She grinned and finally looked down at her feet. “I did it!”

“Yes, so let’s do it again.” He squeezed her hand clasped in his to gain her attention and she looked up to meet his eyes without hesitation. “And I step forward.” Rumald led her through the steps without saying another word to her.

Belle was more than willing to let him lead her, following without resistance, performing the turn without fault. Guiding her again to perform the steps again, Rumald basked in the smile she was showing him, feeling lighter on his feet as they danced together. The last time he had felt something close, to what he felt, was when he had danced with Cora. Dancing with her, Rumald had felt powerful and strong. As he danced with Belle though, he felt those same things, but also felt as if he could do anything with her by his side. He could thwart off any evil as long as she stood by him and showed him that smile.

“Oh!” She uttered when she glanced over his shoulder at something. “It’s twenty past seven.”

Confused, Rumald stopped dancing with her and looked at his wristwatch. “Twenty past seven?”

“I’m meant to be meeting Ruby after class.” Belle shared with him, taking a reluctant step away from him, still facing him.

“I lost track of time.” He stated more to himself than to her.

“I better get my things.” She hooked her thumb in the direction of her things on the floor in the corner of the room, dawdling on the spot.

Baffled at losing time, Rumald twisted to see the clock on the wall and checked it with the time on his wrist. “How…?”

Belle remained a step away from him as she said. “Ruby will be wondering where I am.”

“Yes, of course, she will.” Rumald said, grasping at anything to say.

She opened her mouth to say something to him, but shook her head thinking better of it and showed him a quick smile. Intrigue that she had been about to say something to him, Rumald waited silently to see if that would encourage her to say whatever she was going to say to him. Belle opened her mouth a second time and stopped again. He raised a questioning eyebrow at her.

“Thank you.” She said simply.

Rumald hunched his brow down over his eyes. “For what?”

“For being my partner tonight.” Belle shone half a smile at him.

“You don’t need to thank me, dearie. Part of the job.” He informed her, waving away her appreciation, and left her in the middle of the room to collect his suit jacket.

Turning enough, so he could see her through the mirror, Rumald felt bad seeing her look so dejected. He did not want to upset her, especially as she had looked so radiant in his arms. Except, Rumald had to keep some distance between them. She was as good as married to Gaston. A promise had been made between them. And as much as Rumald had been indifferent to this vow with Cora, he would not do the same with her. She did not need him to corrupt her and her pure heart.

“I’ll see you on Thursday, Mr Gold.” She told him, heading over to her things.

“Yes, Thursday.” Rumald turned to avoid ogling her as she bent over to collect her things from the floor.

Grabbing his overcoat, Rumald made a break for the door, telling himself he needed a drink before he went home. It was near the doorway, he recognised that they were both going to get to the doorway at the same time. At the doorway, Rumald stepped to one side and gestured for her to go before him, sweeping his arm in the direction of the door. She curtly bowed her head with thanks and went ahead of him, leaving him to follow reluctantly behind her. Slowing his pace, he hoped she would leave and disappear into the night ahead of him. However, when Belle got to the door, she pushed it open and held it open expectantly for him, returning the favour with a slight smile.

As he came through the doorway, Rumald said his thanks to her. “Thank you, Miss French.”

“You don’t have to call me, Miss French, you know?” She let go of the door and took up a position beside him.

“I’m your teacher.” He apprised her. “It would be best to keep things formal.” And so they could keep space between them. First names were too personal, too familiar.

Rumald stepped off the kerb and was surprised when she stepped with him, crossing the street with him. “Mal said you didn’t teach anymore.”

“No, I don’t.” He replied, eyeing her beside him whilst they stepped onto the opposite kerb.

“So, why are you teaching us?” She asked clutching her bag close into her side, her eyes on his face.

Rumald avoided her gaze. “I owed Regina a favour.”

Turning the corner together, Belle asked him. “How come you stopped teaching?”

“What is this?” He halted to turn on her. “Twenty questions?”

“I’m just curious.” She explained and nervously bit into her lower lip.

Breathing heavily through his nose, Rumald fought with the urge to kiss her as she dragged her teeth over her soft lip, steadily releasing her lip from the torture of her teeth. In his mind, he had already grabbed a hold of her face and was giving her no choice but to kiss him. He wanted to consume her there and then. Kiss her like he knew she had never been kissed before. She would squirm, he imagined, and then she would return his kiss, melting into him.

“I’m sorry.” Belle ducked her head down, hiding her face from him. “I shouldn’t have pried.”

Hooking his finger under his chin, Rumald raised her head back up, repeating what he had told her earlier in the evening. “Stop apologising.”

Their gazes held each other, fixed in place with Rumald’s finger still lingering under her chin. He knew it would have been so easy to take what he wanted from her. ‘ _She’s not yours’_ , his inner voice told him. With those words stuck inside of his head, repeating over and over, Rumald reluctantly let his hand fall back down to his side.

As soon as he had removed his touch, Belle blinked her eyes rapidly at him before taking a step away from him and looked at something further down the street. “I better go. Ruby will be waiting.”

“Yes, you better.” He uttered, watching as she sauntered away from him.

The further she got from him, the quicker her pace. Rumald observed her crossing the street again, staying exactly in the spot she had left him. He rubbed his finger and forefinger together, feeling a tingle where his finger had been touching her. When she finally out of his sight, Rumald began to walk in the direction of his shop, his attention remained on where she had disappeared into Grannies.


	7. Chapter 7

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Belle unexpectantly drops by the shop, shopping for a wedding gift for Gaston.

Sat in the backroom of the shop, Rumald was hunched over his workbench, rubbing viciously at a bronze statue. He leant back to dab some more cleaning solution onto the cloth in his hand, eyeing the state of the statue in front of him. Wednesday was always a quiet day and he was taking advantage of the fact, hiding away in the back of his shop where no one could find him. As he angled himself over the statue and began rubbing in circular motion again, Rumald breathed out loudly, knowing the truth was, he was stopping himself from spying out of the front window of the shop. He was still annoyed with himself, over the way he had arrived at the shop that morning.

It had started on the drive to the shop. Nervously, he had adjusted his tie in the rear view mirror, a normal habit he would admit. Then he had checked his hair before he got out of the car and then once he had got out of the car, he had inspected his suit for any stray hairs as he straightened it with a tug. As he had casually meandered to the front of the shop, he had let his eyes travel naturally over in the direction of the library, projecting an air of indifference to anyone who might have seen him. Rumald had angled himself at the front door, so he could unlock it whilst keeping a keen eye on the library. Inside the shop, he had hung out near the front window, waiting for her to arrive at the library. He had been rewarded for his half an hour of standing guard, when she had walked around the corner of the library from the parking lot, rummaging in her bag for her keys, and had unlocked the library door. Belle had glanced over to his shop before she had pushed the door open and headed inside, shaking her head at something. When he had finally realised, he had been stood by the window for two hours, hoping she would reappear, Rumald had grounded himself to the backroom of the shop.

Tossing the dirty, sodden cloth to his workbench, Rumald stepped off his stool and went across to the small kitchenette to make himself a coffee. If it had been later in the day, he would have gladly been having a glass of whiskey. Though, Rumald was beginning to think he had been hitting his whiskey a little too much in the past week. Absently he soothed a hand over his forehead, still feeling the headache he had woken up with, and poured some hot water into his cup of coffee. He stirred his coffee a few times before dumping the tea spoon to the side. As he made his way over to his workbench, the bell rung over the front door of the shop, signalling someone had arrived. The bell let out a dull tingle when the door had been closed.

“I’ll be there in a second.” Rumald called through, delivering his coffee to the workbench.

He looked at the state of his hands, covered in cleaning solution and dirt. Letting out a small groan, Rumald headed to the sink to quickly rinse his hands under the tap, glad he had rolled his sleeves up earlier to save getting his cuffs dirty and wet. As he dried his hands with a towel, Rumald strode to the curtained doorway and entered the shop, sweeping the curtain back with his right elbow. Stood just inside the front of the shop, Rumald stopped dead on the other side of the curtain, surprised to her.

Raising a curious eyebrow at her, Rumald finished drying his hands and tossed the towel to nearest glass counter, and greeted her. “Miss French.” Belle jumped up from where she had been bent over, looking at an item in his glass counter, when she heard his voice. “To what do I owe the pleasure?”

“Hi.” Belle flicked up her hand to wave hello at him.

Rumald began to roll down his sleeves, his eyes divided between her and his shirt sleeves. “Is there something I can do for you?”

She was watching him as he retrieved his cufflinks from his pants pocket and fastened his shirtsleeves in front of her. He pulled at his left sleeve and then his right sleeve with her eyes on him. Feeling self-conscious under the scrutiny of her gaze, Rumald hid his hands away into the pockets of his pants.

“Miss French,” He said her name to gain her attention. “Are you here for a reason?”

“Oh, yes. So…” Belle stopped the apology on the edge of her lips, which threatened to quirk into a smile for a second. “I’m trying to find Gaston a wedding gift.”

Rumald frowned at her. “A wedding gift?”

“I’ve been looking everywhere and can’t find anything suitable. And as I was just going to lunch, I thought this is the one place I haven’t looked.” She explained, waving a hand round at the shop.

“Did you have something specific in mind?” He inquired, while thinking to himself, ‘ _A tonne weight dropped on the idiot’s head would do nicely_ ’.

Her lips pursed in thought as she let her eyes travel around the shop, saying. “Nothing specifically. I’m hoping when I see it, I’ll know.”

Rumald dug the nail of thumb into his forefinger on his right hand, keeping himself grounded. The urge to rush to her and kiss her, when she pouted her lips had nearly undone him. Those lips had been on his mind since she had left him last night, outside on the sidewalk. Sat at home, drowning himself in half a bottle of whiskey, Rumald had kept wondering, would her lips be as soft as her hands? What would her lips taste of? Would she return his kiss?

“As you haven’t got anything specific in mind, I can’t really help you.” He brought his left hand out of his pocket and gestured to shop with it. “Have a look round.” Rumald encouraged her, hiding the winced as he pushed his thumbnail further into his finger.

She nodded her head and began moseying around the shop. Yanking his hand out from his pocket, Rumald eyed his right forefinger, grimacing at the sore nail mark in his finger. He rubbed his thumb over the self-inflicted mark on his finger. Although, it had worked to keep him from daydreaming or giving into his wants, Rumald decided he had better find another way to keep his self-control. Maybe a bobble, he thought, turning to the small glass display on the sideboard behind him. He opened it and retrieved a small coin from inside to put into his pocket.

“Is that a first edition of ‘Her Handsome Hero’?” She asked from the other side of the shop, her back to him when he glanced over his shoulder to her.

Closing the small cabinet, Rumald replied. “Yes, and it has a minor repair to the spine.”

“Can I see it, please?” Belle twisted her head to look at him.

“Course.” He headed over to the other side of the room and went behind the counter that she was waiting by, and ducked down to grab the book from inside the counter. Placing it down onto the counter, Rumald opened it to the title page and showed her where it was stamped first edition, and then turned a couple of pages to show her the repair to the spine. Gingerly, she laid her hand onto the book and bent down slightly to inspect the repair he had indicated. Rumald swiftly snatched his hands away from the book, refusing to allow himself the chance to accidentally touch her soft, delicate fingers.

Belle carefully picked up the book and took a closer look at the repair. “You can hardly see it.”

“I do try.” He commented laying his hands to rest on the edge of the glass counter.

“You repaired it?” She sounded amazed.

“I don’t just rely on my good looks to get me through life.” Rumald joked to her and added seriously. “I sell and restore antiques.”

“Ah.” She stood with the book open between her hands, staring at him over it.

For the second time in a short space of time, Rumald was feeling very uncomfortable under her microscope as she gazed at him. He held his ground, telling himself it was nothing. Though, as much as he told himself it was nothing, Rumald could not shake the feeling she was trying to burrow deeper into him. Probing into the darkest parts of his soul.

“It’s very good.” Belle said, suddenly shutting the book and placing it back onto the counter.

Rumald pointed a finger at the book. “I don’t think that’s for him.”

“What?” Belle blurted at him, scrunching her eyebrows at him.

“The book.” He picked up the book to illustrate his meaning. “I don’t think it would suit Mr Phipps.”

“The book? Oh, no!” She cracked a smile at him, fluttering his heart. “No, that would be for me.”

Rumald flicked the book briefly forward in his hands and rested the top edge of the cover against his chest, as he said. “That would make more sense.”

“How much is it?” She enquired with an expectant look.

“First edition, easily six hundred.” He informed her.

“Oh…” Belle face fell grim.

His gut twisted. “What?”

Belle waved his question away, saying. “I can’t afford it.”

“Oh, right.” He laid the book down onto the counter, feeling guilty.

“I’m not here for me, anyway.” She brightened instantly, smiling at him as she said. “I’m here for Gaston.”

Rumald could not help but smile with her. She astounded him. From past experience, Rumald would have expected her to make some lousy excuse and leave the shop. That was what usually happened, when someone found out they could not afford something from his shop. Seeing Belle, not let the fact dampen her mood for long, amazed him. She was amazing.

Observing her as she traipsed along the counter, eyeing the other items in the counter and the items displayed on the wall behind him, Rumald was tempted to give her the book. He lowered his eyes to the book on the counter, his fingers touching the edge of the blue cover. ‘ _I can’t’_ , he inwardly told himself. If he did, it would mean something and she did not mean anything to him. She could not mean anything to him. Rumald reminded himself again, for the billionth time, Belle was not his, she was Gaston’s. She would never, ever, be his.

And, of course, Rumald did not want her. He had sworn to himself. Love was weakness. All love had ever given him was pain and he was quite happy to live the rest of his days on his own. He was not lonely. He loved being able to do what he wanted, when he wanted, to whomever he wanted. Life was easy on his own and she was not going to be a part of it. Ever!

“I’m not really seeing anything that would suit Gaston.” Belle said on the other side of the room, crouched down to see closer into the glass counter.

Rumald returned the book to the counter below him, refusing to acknowledge how delicious her backside looked, and marched out from behind the counter to join her in front of the other counter, while he asked. “What things is he into?”

“Sports.” She began to list them as she stood up. “Hunting…” She paused to think. “Working out… Sports.” Belle laughed after she repeated ‘Sports’.

“Himself.” Rumald mumbled under his breath.

Belle scowled up at him. “What?”

“Nothing.” He said with half a smile and said. “You don’t seem to have a lot in common.”

Her scowled turned thoughtful. “No, I supposed we don’t.”

Rumald rounded the counter to put some space between them, feigning he was looking for something on the sideboard behind the counter. “That can’t be easy, not having much in common, and trying to do things together.”

“It’s part of the reason, I wanted us to take dance classes together.” Belle revealed to him.

He remained quiet, refusing to comment how he would love to do anything with her. How he would love to just to sit in an empty room with her, no distractions, and just talk with her. How he wanted to get to know her inside out. Wanted to know everything she was thinking before she even thought it. Wanted to be the first thing she thought about, when she woke up in the morning, and the last thing she thought about before she went to sleep. He wanted everything - the good and the bad. He wanted her to scream at him, cry at him, laugh at him. He wanted all of it and her.

“How about this?” Rumald spun round with a metal silver tankard in his hands.

“A tankard?” She questioned reaching to take the tankard from his hands.

He indicated to the side of the tankard with his finger. “You could get a message etched into it. Something… special between you both.”

“That’s not a bad idea.” Belle smiled at him. “How much is this?”

“Twenty bucks.” He said flippantly to her.

“Done!” She replied happily and dumped her handbag onto the counter to dig out her purse.

While she was rummaging in her bag for her purse, Rumald noticed she was carrying a book inside her handbag and could not help himself as he smiled. She was definitely a bookworm. He could picture her, sat in one of the armchairs of his living room, book in hand, fire roaring, and she would be completely lost within her book. Those would be the evenings he would treasure, appreciating her from a far, while she was unaware of his regard.

“Here you go.” Belle offered the money to him.

He took it from her, avoiding her fingers. “I’ll just get you a receipt.”

“Thank you.” She smiled at him again, shoving her purse back into her already heaving handbag.

Edging away, Rumald moved out from behind the counter and went behind the main counter, where the cash register and ledgers were located. His fingers quickly rung in the sale on his cash register, which let out a loud ka-ching before spitting out the cash draw. He shook his head at himself, wanting his daydreams to go away, as he put the twenty-dollar bill into the draw and shoved it close. Grabbing the receipt book from under the counter, it was then he noticed she was stood opposite him with the counter between them. Feeling unsure of himself for the third time during her visit, Rumald grabbed a pen from beside the cash register and scribbled out her receipt for her, and ripped it from the book to offer it to her.

“Thank you.” She showed him a smile as she took the receipt from him, ghosting her fingers over his own fingers.

Holding his breath, Rumald let go of the small piece of paper and retracted his hand to his chest, wriggling his fingers in the air to rid himself of the tingling sensation. It felt as if he had received an electric shock. Scrunching his face, he studied his hand, turning his hand over to see the inside of his hand and then the back of his hand.

The ringing of the bell above the door caught his attention and he looked up to see her, halfway through the door, looking back at him. “I’ll see you tomorrow.”

“Yes, tomorrow.” He replied, not really knowing what he had said.

One last smile and she was gone, closing the door behind her to tingle the bell again. Letting his eyes fall to his hand, Rumald shook it, trying to relieve himself of the tingle in his hand. He shook it more forcefully, which did not help at all. Flinging his hand as though he was discarding it over his shoulder, Rumald decided to return to the back room and continue cleaning the statue.


	8. Chapter 8

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Gaston is away at a team game, leaving Belle and Rumald alone again.

With his hands tucked deeply into the pockets of his overcoat, Rumald strolled along the sidewalk, looking out over the harbour on his right. He had spent most his afternoon out of the shop, paying friendly visits to his debtors, reminding them he required full payment at the end of the month. Making those little visits were a highlight for Rumald, seeing their faces when he turned the heat up a little, threatening to take back whatever he had given. However, as he had made his rounds, Rumald kept being troubled by his thoughts. A little voice would tell him; the man she would want would not do this. He would not take satisfaction in the others misery. The man she should have been with would be courageous, kind and understanding. Not a man who leveraged people into deals, hurt them and used them for his own agenda. That man also should not be vain and arrogant, he thought to himself.

Further up the sidewalk, Rumald spotted the dance studio and was tempted to turn towards Main Street, and head back to the safe haven of his shop. No matter how much he pleaded with himself to go to his shop, his feet carried on in the direction of the dance studio, unwavering in pace. His body and heart were in agreement; he was going to the dance studio whether he liked it or not.

He paused before reaching for the handle on the glass door and entered the dance studio. Mal was sat behind the reception desk as usual, filling her nails with a colourful nail file. Walking across to the reception desk, aimed to slingshot the desk for the stairs behind it, Rumald was mid stride when a long forgotten voice called his name.

“Gold.” She called from the doorway of the studio on his right.

Rumald pivoted to face her. “Zelena.”

Seeing her stood there, filled him with mixed emotions. She was elder daughter of Cora’s, who had been given away, when Cora was about to marry Regina’s father. The sisters did not meet until they were in their late teens. A chance meeting at a dance competition, where Zelena had recognised her mother from a picture and had been brave enough to face her mother, stupidly thinking her mother would greet her with her arms wide open. Instead, Cora had pushed her away and left her stood in the middle of the dance hall, whilst she dragged Regina away from the tall red head. The incident did not persuade Zelena to give up pursuing her mother and had only enrolled herself into Rumald’s dance class, knowing her mother would have been there. He wished he had thrown her out, when he had found out who she was, but he had felt sorry for her. It was the one thing they had in common, being abandoned by a parent, although she seemed to think they had several things in common and had felt the need to proclaim her love for him.

“I thought I saw you last week.” Zelena confessed to him, stepping out from the studio, leaving her class of kids to practise their steps.

“Indeed.” Rumald looked at her class, seeing a couple of their faces watching them.

Zelena gestured towards the dancing children. “I teach the kids.”

“That’s nice, dearie.” He responded clasping his hands in front of him, wanting to run for the door.

“I was surprised, when Regina said, you’d be covering her evening class.” Rumald glimpsed at Mal, remembering she had said the same thing the week before. “Seeing as you vowed never to teach again.”

Lifting his shoulders at her and letting them fall, Rumald replied with. “She twisted my arm.”

“She can be very persuasive.” Zelena grinned at him as she spoke.

“Yes, I’m well aware.” Rumald let his lips twitch into a short smile, feeling the hairs on the back of his neck prickle.

Zelena took another step, standing about four feet from him. “It would be nice to catch up. Maybe, we could grab drink after your class?”

“I’m not sure that would be a good idea, dearie.” He grimaced at her invitation.

“It’s been so long, though.” She edged closer to him. “Surely, one drink wouldn’t hurt?”

Opening his mouth to make her well aware of how he felt about going for a drink with her, Rumald heard the door to the dance studio open behind him and looked over to the door to see Belle enter reception. His brow raised up his forehead and he smiled, grateful for the interruption. Zelena followed his gaze and both of them watched Belle approached them, unsurely looking between the two of them.

“Hello.” Belle greeted them as she came close to Rumald and stood near him.

“Miss French,” Rumald bowed his head slightly at her. “You’re early.”

“I am?” She twisted her wrist to look at her watch.

Taking a step closer to put a guiding arm around her, Rumald led her on a path towards the stairs. “Sorry, Zelena. Another time, maybe?”

He put a bit more pressure onto Belle’s back, causing her to give him a questioning look as they hurried up the stairs to their usual studio. Crossing the threshold together, Rumald halted inside the doorway and closed the glass door, peering down into reception to see Zelena stood exactly where they had left her.

“What was that about?” Belle asked from somewhere behind him.

Waiting for Zelena to re-join her class, Rumald answered her as he turned round. “A very well timed escape.”

“That bad?” She questioned with a smile, amused by his obvious discomfort.

“Let’s just say, mistakes in your past, have a funny habit of catching up with you.” He shared with her, shrugging his overcoat from his shoulders, whilst he crossed the room to the sound system.

Depositing his overcoat and suit jacket onto the stool as usual, Rumald bent over the sound system and selected the quickstep playlist. The music started up as he straightened his waistcoat with a tug and went to the middle of the room. Belle had already deposited her handbag to the floor and was laying her coat on top of her bag, when Rumald came to a stop in the middle of the room.

“Is Mr Phipps going to be joining us today?” Rumald asked, secretly hoping the answer was ‘no’.

Belle’s eyes went wide for a second. “Gaston?”

Fascinated by her shock expression, he gestured with a hand towards the doorway of the studio. “Your fiancé? Is he joining us tonight?”

“Gaston!” She said loudly, clarity dawning on her. “Oh, no, he’s away with the team tonight.”

He knew he was smiling at her. The fact she had forgotten about her fiancé was his reason for smiling. Not because they would alone for two hours together. He would take no pleasure in the next two hours. They would be two hours of hell with this beautiful, who demanded he grovel down at her feet, expressing his gratitude for her allowing him in her presence.

As she approached him, Rumald held his hand out for her take, saying. “We’re going to be doing the quickstep tonight.” Placing her hand in his, Rumald hand began to tingle under her touch. “It’s similar to the foxtrot, but has a quicker tempo.”

“Quicker.” She repeated, nodding her head in recognition.

“The steps are slow, quick, quick, slow.” He latched his thumb over the back of her hand and held his other hand out, inviting her to come closer. “As we do the steps, we’ll do a quarter turn to the right and progress into a progressive chasse.” Rumald explained, placing his hand just under her left shoulder blade.

“Progressive chasse.” Belle said to herself, her gaze on her feet.

Dipping his hand from her back between them, Rumald brought her face up to meet his gaze with his finger under her chin. “Head up. Don’t look at your feet.”

“Don’t look at your feet.” She echoed his words with her eyes coming up to meet with his.

The world seeped away as he looked at her, hearing only the thud of his heart. The bobble in his pocket burned against his leg, while he fought to keep his mind off of her beauty. He took a breath before he took a step into the dance, keeping his mind on the bobble in his pocket. It was hard to keep his concentration on the bobble as dancing with her was effortless. Their movements were in sync, even with her being a novice, trusting him explicitly as he guided her backwards.

“Is that good?” Belle asked him, as they floated around the room together.

Rumald swallowed at the lump in his throat. “Very good.”

She smiled at him. “I wish my mum could see me. We used to dance around the living room together.”

“Really?” He asked, captivated by her sharing something personnel with him. 

“Yeah,” Her smile took on a sadness as she spoke. “We used to put on a Disney film and dance to the songs.”

Rumald sensed there was something more to the story. “I take it, she’s not around anymore.”

Her gaze dipped from his for a second and he knew he had touched a nerve. “She died.”

“I’m sorry to hear that.” He slowed their pace. “It’s nice you have memories of her though. I don’t have any of my own mother.” Rumald shared with her, surprising himself.

Sharing things of a personal nature with anyone was very uncomfortable for Rumald. He had learnt from an early age to play his cards close to his chest. Not letting anyone see behind his persona unless he wanted them to. Rumald had not thought much about sharing personnel details with her, because, of course, she would never be his, so why waste his breath with such things.

“That has to be hard.” She told him, her face full of sadness.

Rumald stopped dancing with her, but remained holding her close, as he said. “Not really. You can’t miss something that you never had.”

Even as he said it, Rumald knew his statement was wrong. He was very sure, he would regret missing an opportunity to be with her after they were married and he had not even had her. All he had was dreams of a life that would never come to pass. Dreams of waking up beside her, stroking a piece of hair from her face as he watched her sleep, waiting for her to wake naturally so he would be the first thing she would see in the morning. Fantasies of coming home from work, to find she had cooked dinner and was eagerly waiting for him to come home, so she could tell him all about her day. Illusions of passionate nights spent together, driving each other to edge and back again, her screams loud enough for the neighbours to be concerned.

The bobble in his pocket was scorching his leg, a burning reminder he had drifted off into his own little world. A quick shake of his head and Rumald used his hold around her to urge her to step back, restarting their dance. They danced in silence, listening to the music, while their eyes held each other.

As they lapped the room for a second time, Rumald praised her. “You’re doing wonderfully well.”

“Thank you.” Belle smiled. “You’re a good teacher.”

His heart swelled with her compliment and returned her smile, feeling heat wash over his cheeks. As they turned and started the steps over again, Rumald noticed the space between them had narrowed. He was very aware of her closeness, while they danced and briefly diverted his eyes to check the distance between them.

“Excuse me,” She said jovially to him, slipping her hand from his shoulder to tap under his chin. “Eyes up. Don’t look at your feet.”

Rumald chuckled bringing his eyes up to meet hers, cocking an eyebrow at her. “Really, dearie?”

“Eye contact is very important.” Belle feigned her seriousness, struggling to keep a straight face as she responded to him.

“Aye,” His brogue thickened for a second and he was sure, he felt a shiver travel through her body. “Very important.”

The playlist came to a stop as they started the steps over again. They both looked over to the sound system together, stunned it had come to a stop. Looking from the sound system to each other, Rumald noticed the time on the wall.

“Wow,” He muttered and let go of her hand to point to the clock. “It’s just turn seven.”

“Really?” Belle spun round to look at the clock on the wall.

Rumald flung his hand in the direction of the clock, saying. “Time flies, when you’re having fun.”

She twisted to see him over her shoulder. “Have you been having fun?”

With a sly smile, he pursed his lips, pretending to think about it. “Not really.”

“Oh, come on.” Belle placed her hands on her hips, turning back round to face him. “You’ve got to be enjoying teaching again?”

“It’s been a pleasure, Miss French.” Rumald inclined himself forward, bowing to her, meaning every word. With a giggle, Belle curtesy to him, shaking her head at the stupidity of the situation. He straightened his back, admiring her smile, revelling in the fact she was smiling because of him.

“I better get going tonight.” Belle informed him, wandering over to her coat and bag. “I’m meeting Ruby again to do some last minute wedding planning.”

“Sounds… delightful.” He murmured, disliking the reminder she would never be his.

Belle let out a small groan collecting her things from the floor, saying. “Not really.” She stood up to look at him. “Ruby’s trying to convince me to change the colour of the bridesmaid dresses from light blue to red.”

“Red?” Rumald queried.

“Yeah, I know.” Belle shrugged her eyebrows at him before hooking her thumb towards the door. “I got to go. See you on Tuesday.”

“Yes.” He forced a smile, though he did not feel it. “Night, Miss French.”

She paused at the door, looking expectantly at him. “Goodnight, Mr Gold.”

Giving her a small wave of his hand as farewell, Rumald watched her start down the stairs and slowly disappear out of a sight. He was tempted to chase after her, beg her to give him a chance, take pity on him and let him into her life. It was with this thought, Rumald decided he had to be honest with him. He had fallen hard for her and he did not just want her in his life. He needed her to be in his life. However, like he had told himself before, Rumald would not corrupt her. She had made a promise to Gaston, accepted his ring, and that would be a deal she would have to break herself. Who was he anyway, to stand in the way of her chance of happiness, even if it was with an arrogant son-of-a-bitch, who did not comprehend how special she was?


	9. Chapter 9

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Rumald is called to one of his properties and as he's leaving, he witnesses something he shouldn't have.

The sun shone brightly as Rumald exited his Cadillac and closed his door behind him, roaming his gaze over the neighbourhood. He did not frequent this part of Storybrooke often. Recently, he had purchased a new property, which was why he had dragged himself over to this part of town after a phone call from Dove. After knowing Dove for well over a decade, Rumald could tell by the tone of Dove’s voice on the phone, he was not going to be happy with whatever was going on.

Marching across the street, Rumald eyed the different tools and materials, which were scattered over the front lawn of the property. Behind his sunglasses, he could see fresh boards had been fitted to the exterior of the house, dotted in amongst the original painted boards of the house. He followed the front path leading up to the front porch, surveying the front door, which was wide open. His shoes clunked with each step up to the porch and across the boards to the doorway. As he entered the house, he was hit with the smell of cleaning solution and fresh paint. Dove and Marco were stood by the fireplace in the living room, both looking concerned as they talked to each other.

“He won’t be happy.” Dove commented, unaware Rumald had already entered the house.

“Won’t be happy, about what?” Rumald asked, clasping his hands in front of himself.

Marco took a visible breath before he answered. “The foundations – I suspect they’ve flooded the basement a couple of times and the foundations are now weak.”

“The foundations?” Rumald repeated in disbelief. “The surveyor said this house was sound.”

“I don’t know what to tell you, Mr Gold.” Marco showed his hands to Rumald, while shrugging his shoulders.

With a short shake of his head, Rumald rolled his eyes and asked the obvious question. “How much?”

“I’ll have to get back to you about figures.” The tension in Marco eased. “I’ll have to call in a foundations expert.”

“Fine, you do that and get it sorted.” Rumald then pointed his finger at Dove. “You, can go find our surveyor friend and find out what the hell he’s playing at.”

“Yes, sir.” Dove responded instantly, already heading by Rumald to the front door.

Rumald pivoted to follow Dove with his eyes, calling after him. “And make sure, he’s well aware of how unhappy I am about the situation.” Turning back to Marco, Rumald mumbled to himself. “I can see this costing thousands.”

“We should be able to save some money in other places. The plumbing isn’t in bad shape and the kitchen cabinets can be saved.” Marco waved his hand in the direction of the kitchen.

“I appreciate the sentiment, Marco, but you’re talking hundreds. Not thousands.” Rumald shook his head again, disappointed with his hope of a quick turnaround, being foiled by someone not doing their job properly.

“Sorry, Mr Gold.” Marco wholeheartedly apologised to Rumald.

Avoiding Marco’s gaze, Rumald looked about the living room, inspecting the walls and ceiling, as he said. “Let’s just hope we don’t find any more costly issues.”

“Hopefully not.” Marco said in agreement.

“Let me know as soon as you know something.” Rumald instructed him, sweeping his gaze once more around the room, and left Marco in the living room.

Heading back outside, Rumald allowed himself one more shake of his head and left the issue inside the property. He chose not to worry about the issue until Marco came back to him with a price. His shoes clunked on the porch as he stepped out from the house, poking his sunglasses further up his nose.

As Rumald descended from the porch, his attention was caught by a house across the way, where the front door had opened and someone was exiting the house. Such an occurrence would not have normally caught his attention, however, the occupant exiting the house was what had drawn his attention. They kissed and smiled at the woman, who was propping herself up against the doorframe, giving the man a very sultry smile, dressed in a skimpy dressing gown that did not cover up anything as it was see through. Engrossed by the scene, Rumald strode the path from the porch to the sidewalk, his eyes on the man as they mirrored Rumald’s own path, coming to the opposite sidewalk at the same time.

“Mr Phipps.” Rumald acknowledged the other man as he walked off the kerb, heading towards his Cadillac. “Such a pleasure to see you.”

“Mr Gold.” Gaston returned the greeting, eyeing Rumald over the top of Rumald’s Cadillac.

Rumald opened his car door and indicated with his head towards the house Gaston had just exited. “Strange, I thought the house you were renting from me, was on the other side of the town.”

“Visiting a friend.” Gaston retorted, his chin raised in defiance.

“Oh,” Rumald laughed and then looked at the house behind Gaston, while his hand rested on the top of his car door. “Indeed. Looked very friendly.”

“Look, Mr Gold,” Coming round the front of Rumald’s Cadillac to stand on the other side of the driver’s door, Gaston’s tone became serious. “I don’t know what you think you saw, but you’re wrong. I was visiting a friend.”

Grinning at Gaston, Rumald playfully went along with the lie. “Of course, you were, dearie. Granted, she looked rather… Undressed, shall we say, but what do I know?”

“Mind your own business.” Gaston sneered aggressively, leaning against Rumald’s car door.

“Or what?” Rumald questioned, amused that Gaston thought he could intimidate him.

“Something bad might happen to you.” Gaston threatened him.

“Really, dear…” Rumald did not get to finish his ‘dearie’. Instead, he doubled over in pain after his car door hit him, the edge of the door catching him perfectly in his groin. His hand held onto the top of the door, holding himself up from sprawling completely out on the floor. Rumald was huffing his breath down at the floor, squeezing his eyes shut, while he cradled his privates in his other hand.

Gaston leaned over him to say. “Some things are best left unsaid, if you catch my meaning.”

Angling his head to peer up at Gaston, Rumald was toying with returning the gesture, when the younger man waltzed away from him. He ducked his head back down holding back the groan that screamed to be released. Mentally, he told himself to take a few more deep breaths, waiting for the waves of pain to subside.

When Rumald felt the ache in his groin was easing, he pulled himself up with aid of his car door, grabbing at his car with his other hand to support himself as he stood up. Rumald twisted his body enough to see in the direction Gaston had gone and saw no trace of the younger man. His upper lip curled into a snarl, wishing he had read Gaston’s intentions, pre-empting the low blow, and had retaliated back with equal force. Rumald shifted his stance and groaned at the surge of fresh pain from his groin. He dropped into the driver’s seat of his car and yanked the car door shut after himself.

Whilst he was sat there waiting for the pain to subside again, his eyes were on the house Gaston had left. Rumald decided he had been going about things all wrong. He had been trying to do the right thing and be respectful of their betrothal. Realistically, Rumald should have known playing by the rules never got anyone anywhere, which was why he always endeavoured to find a loophole in his dealings. This titbit of information on Gaston, put the tables in Rumald’s favour, but it was not enough. Yes, it would end their engagement, he was sure of it. But… To take her from him would be more satisfying, especially as Rumald would get what he wanted: Belle.


	10. Chapter 10

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Belle visits Rumald to apologise for Gaston's behaviour and Rumald decides on his new scheme.

After spending the rest of his Saturday afternoon at the shop, organising things to be shipped out to clients and prepping things for Monday, Rumald pulled his Cadillac into his driveway and let out a small moan of relief at being finally home. As he opened his door and stepped one foot out of the car, Rumald grabbed the bag of Grannies food from the seat beside him and heaved himself out of the car. A twinge from his groin reminded him of his earlier encounter with Gaston. His blood boiled at the thought of Gaston. By a short thread, Rumald was stopping himself from hunting down the Critten to return the favour. However, if he did, it would go against everything he had been scheming all afternoon.

He climbed the stairs to his front porch, keeping in mind his groin, and pulled his keys out of his pocket to open his front door. Once inside, Rumald flicked on the lights and placed his food down on the small table by the front door. ‘ _Idiot’_ , he cursed at himself as he removed his overcoat to hang on the coat stand, sat on the opposite side of the doorway from the small table. He collected his bag of food and ambled into the living room to deliver it to the coffee table, continuing on to the drinks cabinet on the other side of the room. Rumald poured himself a whiskey and sat himself onto the couch, sitting onto the edge so he could reach the coffee table. He turned on the television via the remote and opened his bag of Grannies food to delve inside, looking up to see the local news appear on the television.

“The Convent of the Sisters of Saint Meissa is going to be holding a charity fun fare on the 27th of this month, next Saturday.” The news reporter said. “They’re hoping to raise enough funds to pay for the repairs to the Convent’s roof and any extra money, will be going to the local orphanage.”

Rumald rolled his eyes as he unwrapped the paper from around his burger. The sisters had been trying to get him to repair the roof of the Convent for months. What they seemed to have a hard time understanding, was it was completely their own fault. They had planted the tree, had not maintained said tree and the tree had fallen in the last severe storm they had, damaging the roof of the east wing. Hence, it was their own fault and not his problem. Now, they were making it the town’s problem.

Changing the channel, Rumald took a bite out of his burger and then fished inside the takeout bag to find his potion of fries. Normally, he did not indulge himself in too much takeout from Grannies. The thought of coming home tonight and cooking a meal for one, like every other night, was far from being on Rumald’s mind. And after his morning incident with Gaston, Rumald was quite happy to comfort himself with food from Grannies. He washed his burger down with a sip of his whiskey, watching a rerun episode of Law and Order.

The front doorbell rang. Raising his eyebrow at the sound, Rumald turned his head in the direction of his front door, wondering who could possibly be brave enough to disturb him at home. No one ever came to his house. Even Dove knew to stay away, when Rumald was at home, knowing his employer would skin him alive for disturbing his solitude. The doorbell rang again. Rumald picked up a couple of fries and popped them into his mouth, as he placed his burger down onto the discarded burger wrapper. He stood taking his glass of whiskey from the table, swearing to himself that they better have a good excuse for ringing his doorbell, and went to the front door.

Rumald opened the front door a crack at first and then opened it wider, seeing Belle stood on his front porch. “Miss French?”

“Mr Gold,” She greeted taking a step towards him. “I’m so sorry. I just heard what Gaston did to you. I can’t believe it, but I am so sorry.”

Scrunching his brow down over his eyes, Rumald did not know whether he wanted to slap her silly first or kiss her, as she carried on apologising for her stupid fiancé. He thought he had made it quite clear to her, especially when she had caught herself the other day, that he did not want her apologising for that buffoon.

Belle begged him profusely to accept her apology, while he stood silently taking in the sight of her. His gaze wandered down her attire, suspecting she was dressed ready for a night out in a tightly fitting silver sequin dress. The left corner of his lips turned up into half a smile, smug that his imagination had been right about her. Mind blown, Rumald stood helpless as his gaze travelled down her legs to the six-inch heels she was wearing, which brought her near enough head height with him. As his gaze roamed back up her body, taking his time, Rumald sipped from his whiskey. The beast inside of him wanted to drag her into the house and throw her down into the basement, and lock her away for his own personal amusement.

“Mr Gold, you have every right to press charges on him and I will totally understand.” She carried on, unaware where Rumald’s thoughts were taking him and an imagery Belle.

“Charges?” Rumald asked confused for a moment and then quickly realised what she had said. “Oh, no.” She was the picture of bewilderment. “I don’t know what you’ve heard, but it was complete accident.”

Belle stood on his porch, staring at him. “An accident?”

“Yeah, he didn’t realise how close he was to my car door and apologised immediately afterwards.” Rumald felt dirty as he lied to her.

He told many lies in his lifetime, to family and clients, but this was the first time Rumald felt dirty. Belle was so pure of heart and he… loved that about her. She was still innocent to the dark side of the world, which was probably why she open to listening to his lie.

“Really?” Belle did not sound quite convinced, though her voice gave away that she hoped his lie was true.

“Indeed.” Rumald showed her a reassuring smile.

Her brow hinted, there was a small knot of disbelief still within her. Leaning up against the front door, his left hand held onto the door near the top, whilst he watched her mull over the truth and the lie, trying her best to match them up. Rumald should have known better before he had let the lie pass his lips. She was far from being stupid and he really liked that about her. Pressing his lips into a tight line, Rumald recognised it was going to take some work to get her to accept his lie.

Waving his hand to welcome her inside, something he did not do with anyone, and said. “I can easily explain this.”

“I’m…” Belle glanced distantly over her shoulder. “I’m meeting the girls.”

“It won’t take long.” He opened the door wider and stepped back with the door, opening up his house to her.

Hesitant, Belle stepped bravely over the threshold and came into the house, her eyes on Rumald. The scent of her perfume was the strongest he had smelt it. While she turned her head away from him, her intrigue driving her to look around his house, Rumald dared to lean closer to her and breathed in the smell of her perfume. It was sweet and delicious, and tempted him to eat her where she stood.

“Maybe you can explain then, why Gaston was on that side of town?” She asked him as she pivoted round to face him.

“I’m not sure, why he was there.” Rumald closed the front door and walked by her into the living room, leaving her to follow him, drawing her further into his house. “I was over there on business myself. He was walking down the street as I returned to my car.”

He knew how to lie well. The trick to lying was to mix in small amounts of the truth, which helped to make it sound more realistic. Then, if she was asked any further questions to anyone else, they would verify Rumald’s side of the story. The fact he was retaining a rather large piece of the truth, would only be found out if Gaston was to spout the truth himself and he was not going to be so eager to do that. Especially, given the fact, he had threatened Rumald to keep quiet.

Her heels clicked on his polished wooden floors, telling Rumald she was following him into the living room, while he topped up his whiskey glass. “So, how did he end up hitting you with the car door?”

“Accidentally hit me.” Rumald corrected her, moving from the drinks cabinet to retake his seat on the couch, his food left to go cold on the coffee table. “We were talking and he went to walk by me, when his knee hit the door. Just a simple accident.”

“A simple accident that people are saying sent you down onto your knees.” Belle informed him, holding her clutch purse between her hands, almost protecting herself with it.

“I will admit. It did come as a sharp surprise, like it would for any man.” He twisted his face at her, shaking his head, and added. “I wouldn’t believe everything from the Storybrooke Grapevine, dearie. If you do, you’ll be believing I kidnap and eat children at Halloween.”

She let out a small chuckle. “Yes, I have heard a few things about you.”

Relaxing back into his couch, Rumald crossed his left leg over his right and took a generous drink from his whiskey, eyeing her over the rim of his glass. So… Not only had she been researching him online, but she was also listening to the town talk about him. With many of the things that were whispered about him, most young women would be avoiding him like a plague, yet she seemed more fascinated by him.

He placed the glass on the seat beside him. “Why don’t you sit down and tell me what you’ve heard about me?”

“I can’t.” She looked to the front door. “I’m meeting the girls.”

“Yes, you said that.” He said titling his head to the side, regarding her.

Rumald waited, letting her decide for herself, testing her to see if his notion about her was true. Visibly, Belle appeared nervous, dividing her attention between him on the couch and the front door of his house. The grandfathers clock in the hallway ticked by many seconds until Belle twisted to look at the nearest armchair and edged her way over to it, and carefully took a seat, watchful of Rumald. He raised his glass to his lips and drank from it, hiding his knowing smirk.

“Leroy was telling me, you didn’t divorce your first wife,” She began to tell him. “You murdered her.”

Rumald’s eyebrows rose up his forehead, whilst he quickly swallowed his drink and held her gaze. “Murdered her?”

“He said, she disappeared one night and no one has seen her since.” Belle told him with her fingers, playing with the clip of her clutch purse.

“I’ve contemplated killing her, many times, but as yet, I have not.” He was completely honest with her.

“So… Where is she then?” She inquired, while her eyes went to the photographs littering the room.

Rumald was stumped by her question. “I have no idea. I don’t deal with her these days. My son probably has a better idea, where she is at the moment. Probably on a yacht somewhere with the man she ran off with.”

Looking shocked, Belle snapped her gaze back to Rumald, saying. “I’m sorry. I didn’t know she left you.”

“Why would you?” He threw a rhetorical question at her. “I don’t share that kind of information to be passed around as idle gossip. And I would appreciate, if you didn’t share it as well.” Rumald’s tone became serious with his last sentence.

“I wouldn’t dream of it.” She told him and he believed her.

Picking a non-existent piece of lint off his pant leg, Rumald pushed the conversation on. “What else, do they say about me?”

“I’m sure, you can imagine what they say about you.” Belle was reluctant to continue, her gaze dropped from him to her clutch purse.

“Let me see…” He knew exactly what the town said about him, although, he had never heard the one about murdering Milah. “I’m the most powerful man in town and I got my power by being ruthless. If people cross me, they end up getting hurt. Town monster. A beast.” He waved a hand aimlessly through the air. “I think that’s most of it.”

“Near enough.” She agreed with him.

“It’s all true.” Rumald said and sipped from his whiskey.

A flash of astonishment swept over her face. “Really?”

“I wouldn’t lie to you, Miss French.” Adding in his head, ‘ _again’._ “I’m not going to deny that side of myself. It’s whether, someone is willing accept, there’s more than one side to a person.” Rumald let a bit of hopefulness slip into his voice.

“Never judge a book by its cover.” Belle’s voice was confident as she spoke and added a side note. “My mother used to tell me that.”

Rumald smiled hearing her speak about her mother. “Very wise words.”

“I didn’t know, you had a son.” She shared with him, sheepishly looking at him.

“Neal.” His smile grew as he thought about his son. “His name is Neal.”

Belle moved her eyes around the room as though she would find his son hidden in the room. “Where is he?”

“He works in Boston.” Rumald shared with her, while an uneasy feeling developed in his gut.

“What does he do?” She asked him.

“He’s an architect.” He said matter-of-factly to her, pondering over why it was so easy to talk to her.

Though, he was feeling apprehensive of sharing these private details with her, Rumald felt he could tell her his darkest secrets without fearing a rebuttal from her. He had never felt that with anyone before. Not even with his son, could he share these things. Constantly fearing his son would disown him again, if he put a step out of place. It had taken a long time to get back onto talking terms with his son, earning Neal’s forgiveness for abandoning him. Their relationship was so much more than Rumald had ever hoped to have with his son. Because of that, there were a lot of things he refused to share with his son, scared he would drive him away again.

Belle smiled at him, quelling his anxiousness. “That’s impressive.”

“He’s worked very hard to get where he is and he’s done it all by himself.” Rumald said proudly, grinning at his son’s accomplishments. “He’s an extraordinary young man.”

“Just like his father then.” She paid him a compliment.

One side of Rumald’s smile curled higher at her praise. The look on her face told Rumald all he needed to know as her cheeks blushed bright red: she had not thought about what she was said. Her right hand came up to touch her face as she shamefully dropped her gaze down onto the floor, avoiding any form of contact with him. Rumald raised his glass to his lips and knocked back the remains of his glass.

“Shit!” Belle abruptly jumped up from her seat. “I’m going to be late!”

“Yes, your girls’ night.” He knowingly filled in the rest of her sentence, well aware she was going to be late.

“I got to go!” She made a start towards the front door and Rumald quickly followed, discarding his empty glass to the coffee table.

He caught up with her at the front door as Belle opened it and dashed out onto the porch. Reaching out for her, Rumald caught her by her right forearm and jolted her back round to face. Her momentum brought her closer than Rumald had been expecting, but he did not let that bother him, if anything he was grateful for it. She lifted her gaze slightly to meet his own, their warm breaths washing over one another. It was the closest they had ever been to one another. Rumald let his eyes flick down to her lips, wanting to place his lips against hers, positive they would just be as soft as he imagined.

“I just wanted to remind you.” His lips stayed parted, the urge to kiss her intensifying the longer they stayed close to one another.

“What?” She uttered, her eyes dipping to his lips and back to his eyes.

Rumald stroked his thumb over her forearm as he said. “I’ll see you on Tuesday.”

“Tuesday.” Belle repeated almost breathless.

“Goodnight, Belle.” He did it on purpose, dropping her surname for her forename.

The power of his words were obvious with her eyes flashing wide. He let the sentiment sink in as he let go of her arm, remaining close to her. Even with the coolness of the night wrapping around them, Rumald could feel the heat radiate from her, drawing him to take comfort from her. With every fibre of his being, he wanted to lure her back into his house and into his bed. Except, the one promise he had made to himself, refusing to corrupt her, remained on the table. Oh, he was going to do everything in power to take her from Gaston and give her everything she deserved and more, but the decision had to be hers.

“Goodnight.” She slowly backed away from him, her eyes fixed on him, and only turned away from him when she reached the top step of his porch.

After she descended the stairs, Belle glanced back at him over her shoulder and gradually walked to the sidewalk, where her car was parked by the kerb. She appeared to be reluctant to leave as she ambled around the front of her car to get into it. Her car started after a minute or so of sitting in her car, her gaze remained on him in the doorway of his house. Rumald shouldered his weight up against the doorframe, feeling lost without her presence. Finally, Belle pulled away from the kerb and headed back into town, fleetingly glimpsing back at him. Retreating back into his house after her car was out of sight, Rumald smiled wickedly at himself, sure he was going to enjoy every moment of his scheme.


	11. Chapter 11

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Belle is late to class, and Rumald and her share a little moment.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Song:  
> BodyRockers – I Like the Way  
> Shania Twain – You’ve Got a Way

Rumald squinted his eyes at the screen of his laptop, squeezing at his chin with his thumb and forefinger, reading through the information Dove had found out on Belle and Gaston. He had spent the majority of Monday studying Gaston’s information, needing to know his enemy better. With Belle’s, Rumald wanted to take his time with hers, reading it over and over again, until he had memorised every small detail about her to memory. It would never be as good as getting to know her properly, which he hoped he would in time, but it would be a good start as Gaston already had an advantage over him.

Tapping the down key on his laptop, Rumald passed by her college and high school grades, not shocked to see the majority of her grades were A’s with the odd B here and there. He stopped scrolling the page, when he reached her employment history. This was the section he had the most trouble with, the last six times he had read it. For a woman, who had received a scholarship to the University of California, had finished top in her class and could put herself to anything she set her mind to, Rumald was puzzled by why she had become a librarian. Not that there was anything wrong with it. Just… She had so much potential and it seemed to be wasted with her being stuck in a small town, doing a job suited for someone with a love of books and OCD. Belle should have been in the city, doing something with her degree, like journalism, advertising, or possibly working for a big company in personal relations. Not in a dead end job, where she was being undervalued.

The more he pondered over it, the more he was convincing himself, it had something to do with Gaston and her father. She should have been reaching for the stars and those lousy excuses for men were keeping her grounded. He was sure they were keeping her in a cage, holding her back, but Rumald was in no position to do anything about it… Yet.

Pinching hard at his chin, Rumald scrolled further down the page, skimming over the jobs she had taken after University and those she had done whilst she had been in school. Some of the jobs overlapped, showing she had worked herself to the bone. He could tell her father had been the reason for her working two jobs at the same time. Money seemed to burn in Maurice French’s pocket. The man spent any money that came across his palm, forgetting to pay the things he needed and splashing out on the things he wanted. There had not been a month, where Rumald had not come close to removing goods from Maurice’s shop or taking Maurice’s delivery van.

Belle had worked really hard to get to where she was today and it saddened Rumald to think those two idiots were holding her back. With that thought in mind, Rumald slammed down the lid of his laptop and stood up in a huff, tempted to crack their heads open to shove some sense into them. He checked his watch, although he already knew it was time, and strolled over to where his overcoat hung. The front of the shop was already locked up, taking the liberty to close early, so he could read through Dove’s file on Belle in peace. Grunting to himself under his breath, Rumald exited his shop through the back door and put his overcoat on as he walked down the small alleyway, between his shop and the building next door. By the time, Rumald came out from the alleyway, he had masked his annoyance from everyone.

During the short walk to the dance studio, Rumald had not seen Belle or anyone else for that matter on his journey. He checked his watch to see he was on time and entered the dance studio. Mal was stood in front of the glass wall to Studio A, her arms crossed in front of her, as she watched the couple dancing in the studio. Curious, Rumald walked over to her and cast his gaze on the couple.

“They’re practising for the Blackpool Dance Festival.” She said without looking at him. “Regina thinks they’ve got potential, but I doubt it. They can’t even get through a waltz without messing it up.”

Rumald titled his head as he regarded the couple, saying. “They’ve got time.”

“You know, as well as I do, they haven’t got it.” Mal was harsh, but Rumald knew she was not wrong.

In the two weeks, he had been coming to the dance studio, he had seen the couple dancing but had never really noticed them. They could have been anyone for all he cared. When he had recommended, which couples should enter competitions, there was always one factor that made his decision and that was if they grabbed his attention. There was no point in sending a couple, who just blended into the background and did not stand out. And seeing how he had walked by them, both Tuesdays he had been at the studio, Rumald had to agree with Mal. The couple should not be going to Blackpool, not with couples from all over the world going to compete. It would be brutal for the couple.

“Regina’s decision.” Rumald refused to outwardly agree with Mal.

“I’ll be surprised, if your couple turn up this week.” Mal commented to him, twisting to see him beside her.

Rumald kept his attention on the couple, feigning his disinterest. “Why’s that then, dearie?”

“Just because of their argument last week.” Mal said, moving her eyes back to the couple.

“Couples argue.” He told her, clasping his hands behind his back.

Mal let out a short laugh before she said. “Oh, you would know all about that, with the epic arguments you had with Cora.”

Rumald shuffled his feet, so he stood facing Mal and said darkly. “Don’t mention her name to me.”

“Sorry.” She apologised, glancing briefly at Rumald from the dancers.

Letting it slide, Rumald turned himself back to face the glass, watching the couple perform a dip and nearly fell over together. While they argued on the other side of the glass, he let his mind wander back to his time with Cora. Mal had been right. They did argue a lot. They would fight about the smallest things, needing to be right. Every time they had argued, it would always end up with them falling into bed together, their need for dominance continuing between the sheets. Their relationship had been an addiction for Rumald, needing her more than she needed him. Apparent, by the fact she had moved on overnight and had left him to wallow in self-pity.

Breathing loudly through his nose, taking in a deep breath, Rumald let it out as he said to Mal. “I’m going to wait upstairs.”

“Okay.” She said absently, scowling at the couple in the dance studio.

Strolling by Mal, Rumald gave the couple one last glimpse and headed up the stairs to Studio D. On entering the room, he removed his overcoat from himself and went straight over the sound system, to leave his overcoat and suit jacket folded on the stool. He stood near the sound system, aimlessly looking around the room, feeling foolish with nothing to do.

Rumald shrugged his shoulders at himself and moved to stand behind the sound system, inspecting the list of songs. He picked a song randomly to play, while he carried on looking through the song list, his foot tapping out the beat onto the floor. Seeing another song that he knew, Rumald played the song, replacing the previous song, and smiled as the beat started. In time with the singer, Rumald lip-synced along with the song, while his hips swung with the beat. He carried on through the list of songs, seeing even more songs he knew or remembered a routine he and Cora had created to a song. He hurriedly scrolled by the song, which was his and Milah’s wedding song. ‘ _So many songs, so many memories._ ’, Rumald thought to himself, disbelieving the amount of songs that had a memory with them.

Coming near the end of the list, he spotted the last song he and Cora had performed together. The song had been her chose. ‘ _It’s secretly for us, Rumald_.’, she had told him to convince him. They danced it together at the exhibition held by the dance studio, where Rumald taught and they had spent their free time. He had stupidly thought, it had meant something to her since it marked the fifth year they had been together and had been dance partners. If only he had known the truth, he could have saved himself the embarrassment.

He pressed play on the song. As the song started and the singer began to sing, Rumald ambled from the sound system to the middle of the room. Holding up his arms as though he was dancing with Cora, Rumald let himself imagine she was there and started to dance their routine. She had always been so regal, when they had danced, looking more like a queen than a fisherman’s daughter in his arms. He dipped her and smiled, their eyes meeting like they always did, a knowing smile between them. Though, as Rumald danced with his imaginary Cora, he had to admit he did not miss her like he once did. He downright hated her, but he had always missed her… Though, not so much now, he thought to himself, probably because Belle.

“I am so sorry!” Belle exclaimed at him, hurriedly rushing into the room.

Rumald shot over to the sound system and stopped the song, as Belle dumped her handbag on the floor and ripped her coat from her arms, saying. “I was at Freeport getting fitted for my wedding dress and on the way back, my car broke down.”

He clasped his hands behind his back, lingering near the sound system, slightly startled she had caught him dancing on his own, while she continued to babble her apology. “Then the recovery truck took ages in recovering me. Gaston wouldn’t answer his phone and my father was reluctant to pick me up.” She let out an exasperated breath. “I am so sorry for being late.”

“Miss French,” He drew his brow down over his eyes, showing his annoyance, as she scurried over to him. “I distinctly remember telling you that I appreciate punctuality.”

“Yes, you did.” Belle opened her mouth to add something, but Rumald interrupted her.

“If you’re going to be late to my classes, at least have the decency of calling either myself or the studio.” Rumald advised her, angling himself forward to tower over her.

He held back his smirk as Belle gave him the most vicious, pointed look, he had ever received from a woman. He was very sure of this, as he had pissed off many women in his life. Rumald wished, he knew what other buttons he could press to fire up her temper, wanting to see his angel turn into a vixen again.

Her eyes squinted at him for a second and then she said in an irritated tone. “Maybe, if you gave me your number, I could call you next time and tell you directly, Mr Gold.”

“One would hope, there isn’t a next time, Miss French.” He retorted quickly back at her and turned away from her as she opened her mouth to say something to him, and retrieved a business card from the inside pocket of his suit jacket.

Handing over the card to her, Rumald said to her. “My business numbers are on the front. My home number is written on the back.”

“Home?” She flipped the card over, seeing he had written his phone number onto the back of the card.

“Just in case.” He flashed her a quick smile, when she flicked her eyes up at him from the business card.

“O…kay.” Belle slipped the card into the back pocket of his jeans.

Getting on with the business at hand, Rumald clapped his hands together and said. “I was thinking we could waltz tonight.”

“Oh…” The change in conversation and his demeanour baffled Belle. “Sure. Waltz.”

“Is Mr Phipps joining us this evening?” Rumald asked, only out of common courtesy.

“No.” Her face went instantly sullen at the mention of Gaston’s name.

Half turning away from her, Rumald selected the waltz playlist from the sound system, keeping his smile hidden away from her. He probably should not have been taking joy in the fact he would have her all to himself. After all, the reason she was doing these lessons, was to try and give herself and her future husband a common interest, something they could do together. His smile wavered as he thought it through, foreseeing the heartache she would feel once she found out what Gaston had been doing behind her back. He wished he could save her from going through it, but it was evitable.

“The waltz is very simple.” Rumald turned back to face her. “It’s a three count step. You’ve probably done it without knowing it.”

While Rumald offered his hand to her, Belle nodded her head at the information and placed her hand in his awaiting hand, letting him lead her into the middle of the room. He showed her a reassuring smile, holding his arm out ready for her to step closer to him, ready to place his hand onto her back. She returned his smile, fluttering his heart for the first time that night, stepping into him to place her hand on his shoulder.

“I will lead with my left and you will step back with your right.” He instructed her, holding her gaze. “On two, you’ll step to your left and bring your feet together on the third step. As we step, I want you dip down in height and then on the third step, we’ll return to normal height.”

“Okay.” She said readjusting her hand on his shoulder.

“One…” Rumald stepped forward on his left and she stepped back on her right, both dipping down in height. “Two…” They stepped together to Rumald’s right and on the third count, returned to normal height together. “Three. Very good. Very good, Belle.”

“O…” She was gazing up at him, blinking her eyes rapidly.

He smiled knowingly and led her through the steps again after beginning the count. “One…”

Waltzing her around the room, Rumald nodded the count with his head, smiling broadly at how well she was dancing. Without telling her, Rumald added a turn into their steps and she easily followed him, giving him a small frown at the same time. He kept the turn in their steps as they waltzed about the room together.

“This makes me think of dancing with my mother.” Belle suddenly shared with him, a sad smile on her face.

“Do you want to stop?” He asked thoughtfully after seeing her sad smile.

“No, no.” Her hand squeezed his shoulder. “It nice to think about her and the goods times we shared.”

Rumald remembered something she had said earlier and asked. “What did you mean earlier, when you said your father was reluctant to pick you up?”

“I’m sure, you’re well aware of my father’s money troubles.” Belle said giving him a hint of the pointed look she had given him earlier. “He was worried about paying for gas, so I had to give him money to come and get me.”

“Really?” He questioned, dropping his dearie.

She shook her head at him. “I don’t want to talk or think about it.” And her frown turned into a smile for him. “I just want to be here right now with you, learning to waltz.”

There and then, his heart would have burst out from his chest and give itself to her, if it could. Feeling a surge of glee rush through him, Rumald twirled her and caught her back into his hold. She giggled loudly, clutching onto the shoulder of his waistcoat.

“Do it again!” She urged him.

Not needing to be told twice, Rumald spun her as they danced and caught her back into his arms, leading them through the steps. She laughed again. Gazing down at her, Rumald had not known it was possible for her look even more beautiful, but it was possible. Seeing her face light up with laughter, which he had caused, made him feel light on his feet. He did not want the moment to end. If they could stay together in the dance studio, dancing for rest of their lives, Rumald would have jumped at the chance.

A sobered look came over Belle’s face as she met his eyes. He could have sworn she could see into his depths, into his darkness, and that was why she had frozen. They came to a gradual stop together, their waltz forgotten. Fear crawled its way up his back, wanting to whisper doubting thoughts into his ear.

“Why did you ever stop teaching and dancing?” Belle asked him, halting every negative thought inside of his head.

Rumald tried to put up a front to her, hiding his feelings from her, as he fibbed. “Got too old.”

She shook her head at him. “That’s not it.” He jolted when he felt her fingers touch his face. “Why?”

“Because…” He was going to tell her as he took the strength from looking into her eyes, seeing only safety in their depths.

“Belle,” Gaston called from the doorway, shocking both of them into looking round to the doorway. “Are you okay?”

“Yes.” She said backing away from Rumald, still holding his hand.

Gaston moved his eyes from Belle to Rumald and gave him an unpleasant look. “I just got your voicemails.”

Her hand slipped from Rumald’s and he was left feeling lonely again, like he had on Saturday night, as she said to Gaston. “Well, that was earlier, when I could have done with you answering your phone.”

“You knew, I was looking after the major league scouts today, who’ve come to see the team.” Gaston reminded her, coming further into the room to stand in front of Belle.

Retreating from the potential argument, Rumald went over to the sound system to turn it off and began to put on his suit jacket and overcoat, while Belle said. “I’m sure, they wouldn’t have minded you answering the phone to your fiancée, who needed your help.”

“I’m sorry.” Gaston said through gritted teeth. “But they were very important.”

“More important than me?” She questioned, making Rumald smile.

“I didn’t say that.” Gaston defended with his voice moving to the other side of the room behind Rumald.

Glancing over his shoulder, he found the pair had moved over to where Belle had discarded her things earlier. “You didn’t not say it either!”

“Belle, come on! That’s not fair!” Gaston said lamely to her.

“Thank you, Mr Gold.” She whipped round to face Rumald. “I’ll see you on Thursday.”

“Goodnight, Miss French.” Rumald gave her a small smile, which she returned even with the deep scowl on her forehead.

Leaving Gaston in her wake, Belle stormed away from her fiancé and out of the studio. Rumald scoffed at the scene and headed for the door of the studio as well, straightening his overcoat, until Gaston stepped in front of him.

“What have you been saying to her?” Gaston demanded, shoving his hand into Rumald’s chest, forcing Rumald to take a step back.

Rumald yanked at the lapels of his overcoat, just for effect, and said. “If I had said anything, dearie, you would know about it by now.”

“And your mouth better stay shut.” Gaston warned pointing his finger at Rumald.

“My mouth…” Rumald confidently stepped forward towards Gaston, unafraid of this little boy. “Will stay shut for now.”

“Good.” Gaston sneered and went to turn away from Rumald.

Rumald made his demeanour appear casual, as he said. “Just bear in mind that I know this secret.” Gaston twisted at his waist to see Rumald. “And, if you don’t want your sweet little – Belle – to know, you’ll be willing to do whatever I ask of you.”

Gaston shook his head, though his face gave away how uncertain he was, as he responded to Rumald’s threat. “I don’t have to do anything you say.”

“We’ll see, dearie.” Rumald grinned, showing a small amount of his teeth, and walked by Gaston.

He could feel Gaston’s eyes on him as he left the studio, descending the stairs boldly. Mal gave him an acknowledging nod of her head, when he strolled by her desk, though he did not return the gesture. Rumald left the studio, shoving the door wide open, and walked straight out into the street, crossing without any care for the traffic. He felt he could fly, still feeling where her fingers had touched his face. Nothing could ruin his mood. Not even Gaston’s pathetic attempt to threaten him. With Rumald’s scheming and fate on his side, Gaston had no chance.


	12. Chapter 12

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Belle comes by the shop to apologise... again.

Pouring himself another whiskey sat at his workbench, his ledgers opened on top of the bench with his laptop close by, Rumald tried his best to stifle a yawn after his busy day. His day had started at the crack of dawn, needing to be in Portland before eight o’clock. Most of his morning he had spent sat in a stuffy auction house, bored with the different lots coming up for sale, bidding and winning a few. More things for his collection and some for his clients. During his lunch with a business associate, Rumald had let his mind wander back to Storybrooke, wondering what she had done with her morning, was she at lunch too, did she have plans for her evening. Then he had visited some properties on his way back to Storybrooke, bought two out of the seven that were shown to him, his mind still on Belle as he viewed them. He had not gotten back to Storybrooke till a little after six, leaving him no chance of spying on her at the library.

He drank from his whiskey, reading down the list of inventory on his laptop, when his cell phone began to ring. His suit jacket hung on the coat stand with his overcoat. Letting out a small groan at having to move, Rumald hopped off his stool and strode the three short steps to his suit jacket, pulling out his cell phone from the inside pocket. He answered it as he returned back to his stool at his workbench.

“Gold.” He said without looking at the caller id.

“Evening, sir.” Dove greeted. “I’ve taken care of it.”

“Good and they know to keep it to themselves?” He inquired as he flicked back a couple of pages in one of his ledgers.

“They won’t be telling Miss French about it.” Dove reassured him.

Rumald eyed something in his ledger. “You’re sure, they won’t talk?”

“They seemed to be quite persuaded after I threatened their ability to walk and offered them the money.” Dove sounded pleased with himself.

“Did you take care of the other bit of business?” Rumald asked, typing some figures into his laptop.

“Not quite yet.” Dove told him. “I’m working on it. He’s being stubborn.”

Rumald was slightly disappointed with Dove, he had expected Dove to have dealt with the surveyor already. “Get it done.”

“Yes, sir.” Dove responded immediately and ended the call.

Rumald slipped his phone into his pants pocket and with his elbow, leant his weight onto the bench, angling himself forward to read one of the other ledgers. Though he was concentrating on the books in front of him, easily checking things between the figures on his laptop, Rumald was thinking of Belle and where she had touched him the night previous. Even then, twenty-four hours later, Rumald could still feel the trace of her fingers on his face.

Reaching to the keyboard of his laptop, his hand stilled as his thoughts of Belle took over his mind. It was preposterous, the effect she was having on him. If he had been a teenager, Rumald probably could have put it down to hormones and to the vivid imagination of a teenage boy. He was turning fifty next year, making the whole thing ridiculous. Could he argue it was love at first sight? Maybe… However, that sort of thing would never happen to him. Love at first sight was saved for people with good souls, who also believed in that sort of thing. Not for a man, who would quite happily break someone’s legs over a deal gone sour. Things like that, good things, never came to Rumald. He knew deep in his heart that Belle was too good for him.

His ears pricked at hearing a very dull dingle and knock from the front of the shop. Stilling the thoughts in his mind and slowing his breath, Rumald listened out for the sounds again. Another dull dingle and knock came from the front of the shop. Curious, he got up from his stool and crossed to the curtained doorway, and swept it back to look through into his shop. The shop was perfectly still, nothing astray, as he moved his gaze around the room. About to head back into the backroom, there was a knock at the front door of his shop, which caused the bell on the door to let out a dull dingle. He entered the front of the shop and waltzed by the counters to the front door, pulling back the blind on the door to see Belle on the other side of the door.

He let go of the blind, confused at finding her on the other side of the door. It must have been his mind playing tricks on him. There was no way she would be at his shop, knocking on his door, not at this hour. He checked his watch to see it was after eight o’clock as she knocked on the door again, making the bell dingle above him.

Shaking his head, Rumald unbolted and unlocked the door, and opened it enough to stick his head around the edge of the door. “Miss French?”

“I’ve been knocking a while, is everything alright?” She asked, the concern evident on her face.

“Yes…” He said suspiciously.

“I tried to come by earlier, but you weren’t here.” Belle told him, gesturing towards the shop with her hands. “I was heading home from Grannies, when I saw your car parked at the side of your shop.”

Rumald opened the door wider to reveal himself, asking her. “Was there something you needed?”

“When?” She asked with a small scowl.

“When you came by earlier.” He informed her, slightly amused by her lack of memory.

“Earlier… Oh, yes.” Belle let out a small chuckle. “I wanted to talk to you about last night, at the dance studio.”

“What about last night?” Rumald queried, not sure what exactly they needed to discuss.

An embarrassed look came over her face as she answered his question. “I just wanted to apologise for Gaston and I arguing in front of you again.”

“I’ve told you not to apologise to me, especially on his behalf.” Rumald’s voice was thick with his annoyance with her.

“I know you’ve told me that, but I really feel ashamed about arguing in front of you.” She said being honest with him.

It was not often someone was truthful with him. It was hard to tell the difference these days, with so people lying to him about their circumstances or trying to use him to get something for themselves. Though he could tell she was being honest with him, Rumald could also see she had a hidden agenda as she spoke to him. His brow pushed his forehead down, studying her face for any signs of her hidden agenda. A feeling started to swell, in the pit of his stomach, at the thought she was hiding something from him.

“Couples argue, Miss French, I’ve told you that.” He reminded her, angling his head to the right, trying to see her from another angle and maybe see what she was hiding from him.

Belle rolled her eyes at him. “Look,” She aimed her eyes at him, looking directly into his eyes. “I’m allowed to say I’m sorry to whoever the hell I like. Stupidly, I just wanted to apologise to you, because I didn’t want you to think bad of me.”

‘ _She cares what I think?’_ , he inwardly questioned himself, while the hint of a smile tugged at the left side of his mouth.

“Why have you got such a problem with me apologising anyway?” She threw her question at him, shoving her hands onto her hips, ready for a fight.

Rumald took a moment to regard her, loving her fiery spirit, and said. “Apologising is weakness.”

“No, it’s not.” She looked baffled by his answer. “It takes a strong person to admit when they’re wrong and apologise.”

“I don’t see your fiancé doing much of that.” He said coolly.

“I’m not here to talk about him.” Belle swatted the mention of Gaston away like an annoying fly and said. “Look, I’ve apologised and that’s all I wanted to do. I’ll see you tomorrow.” And she turned away from him, heading in the direction of the library.

Rumald scrunched his brow in thought, knowing she had not collected her car from the mechanic. “How’re you getting home?”

“I’m walking.” She threw back at him over her shoulder, stepping down off of the kerb.

“Wait…” Rumald followed her, coming out of his shop. “Why don’t you let me drive you home?”

“What?” She turned partially round to see him.

Shrugging his shoulders at her, he suggested. “Give me ten minutes and I’ll take you home.”

“I couldn’t impose on you.” Belle told him as she started to cross the street again.

“Honestly,” He called after her, making her twist to see him stood on the edge of the kerb. “It wouldn’t be any bother. I was leaving soon myself.”

Inwardly, he cheered at his little white lie as she walked back to his side of the road. “As long as you’re sure.”

“I haven’t been more sure of anything in my life, Miss French.” Rumald said, hating how corny he sounded.

“O…kay.” Belle gave him a puzzled look and he could not have agreed more, he hated how much sounded like he was out of a Hallmark movie.

“Come on. Ten minutes at most.” He motioned for her to follow him and headed back into his shop, and opened the door wider for her, beckoning her into his shop.

She followed and gave him a short smile as she crossed the threshold into his shop. Once she was inside, Rumald shut the door and relocked it, and slid the two deadbolts on the door across. Belle stood aimlessly in the middle of his shop, masked in the darkness and highlighted by the light crawling in under the curtained doorway. Placing a gentle hand on her elbow, she glanced up at his face, while he led her to the curtained doorway and moved the curtain aside for her. Belle presided him into the back room and he followed her into the room, walking by her to go to his workbench.

“Did I disturb you from working?” She asked slowly coming over to his workbench.

“Not at all.” He showed her a smile as he saved his work on the laptop and shut it down.

Belle eyes looked over the ledgers on the workbench. “It looks like you were.”

“It’s time I went home anyway.” Rumald left his workbench to collect his suit jacket. “I’ve been up since six. I should go home and have an early night.”

“I don’t mind walking home.” She insisted turning to observe him as he adjusted his overcoat.

“I mind you walking home.” He voiced to her, unashamed of his honesty.

“At least someone does.” Belle mumbled, more to herself than to Rumald, letting her eyes wander around the things in the back room of his shop.

His keys jangle as he collected them from his workbench, standing close to Belle as he said. “You would always be high priority to me.”

Her eyebrows were high up her forehead as Belle brought her gaze back to Rumald, angling her head to look up at him. He let her see the truth in his face. Rumald would never treat her the way Gaston had been treating her. He would not be running around behind her back with another woman. He would answer every one of her calls, no matter whether it was convenient or not. These were part of the reason, why Gaston did not deserve to have her in his life.

Standing there with her in front of him, Rumald was tempted to reach his hand up to touch her face, to caress his thumb over her cheek. He knew, if they did not leave his shop soon and put some space between them, he would probably give into his temptation.

“Come on then.” He said to her, but he was saying it to himself.

Reluctantly, Rumald moved away from her and went over to the back door of his shop. He blew out a breath, trying to still his need for her, as Rumald opened the back door and held it open for her. She gave him a gracious smile passing by him to leave through the door. Smelling her perfume as Belle left the shop, Rumald wanted to drag her back into his shop and steal a kiss from her. If he had not promised himself, not to corrupt her, he would have done it, much like he had with Cora, which was why he wanted to keep this promise. Naively, Rumald thought if he did things different than he had with Cora, then hopefully things would turn out differently as well.

“Starting to get chilly.” She said as Rumald came out of his shop, flicking off the lights inside and closing the door behind him.

“And you wanted to walk home.” Rumald countered, locking the door.

Belle shrugged her shoulders at his comment to say. “Didn’t really have much choice.”

“You do now.” He informed her, waving his hand for her to lead the way towards his car.

“Do you often work late?” She probed, changing the subject, as they walked the short distance to his car.

The question threw him for a second, not used to people being interested in him, and he glimpsed at her face before he replied. “Some nights.”

They parted at the rear of the car, both in time with one another as they reached their respected car doors at the same time. Rumald opened his car door and Belle looked surprised as he ducked down into his car. He had never felt a need to lock his car. Not many people in Storybrooke were brave enough or stupid enough to steal his car, knowing the repercussions would be more severe than whatever the Sheriff would deal out. 

She climbed into the car, closing her door, asking. “No one at home waiting?”

After sliding the key into the ignition, Rumald stilled his hand from turning the key, angling his head to look at her beside him. The look on her face was very expecting. His heart thudded in his chest, not sure whether he should allow this sliver of hope grow.

“No.” His voice was small when he uttered the one-word answer.

He saw a mixture of pity and delight flash over her face at his answer. Still, even with his heart beating loudly against his ribs, Rumald was torn between believing his own eyes or listening to the fear, who whispered into his ear, reminding him that Belle was too good for him. But Rumald could not help himself wanting her. She was the light and he was the moth, driven mad by her brightness.

“That must get lonely.” Belle commented to him, bringing him out of his reverie.

“Ah…” He directed his gaze away from her, focusing on anything else but her. “I’m not so lonely these days, but you become accustom to being on your own.”

She placed her hand on his forearm, snapping his attention to where she touched him, as she said. “Do you not get to see your son much?”

“We talk on the phone and we try to visit each other, when we can.” Rumald shared with her, following her arm up to her shoulder and then up to her face.

“I hope you’ll consider me a friend after we finish our lessons.” Belle smiled at him and squeezed his forearm.

He visibly swallowed at her kind offer of friendship and smiled at her. “I would like that.”

Her hand stayed on his forearm, burning his skin through his layers of clothing. Rumald felt himself being pulled towards her, entice to lean over the front seat and to place a candid kiss on her lips. He was drawn to gathering her up into his arms, burying his face into her neck as he lavished himself with the smell of her perfume. He wanted to lose himself in her, kissing and caressing every part of her, uncaring who saw them. With his need for her growing, Rumald’s heart ached even more to be released from his chest.

“I better get you home.” Rumald instructed himself as he started the car and tore his gaze away from her.

Her hand receded from his arm, dampening the fire that stoked his need. Breathing in and out, using the rhythm to calm the beast inside of him, Rumald pulled out from the alleyway beside his shop and onto the quiet street. He tried to keep his thoughts to himself and his concentration on the road, trying not to pay any attention to Belle beside him. They settled into a somewhat comfortable silence, however Rumald could feel there was something between them. He could not go more than a couple of seconds before his mind wandered across the front seat of the car. 

During one moment of wandering, Rumald imagined driving them to his house and summoning her into his home. She would follow him, unable to keep her hands off him, needing to touch him. They would be inseparable once they were through his front door, safe from the world, while they embraced each other. Holding her, he would vow never to let her go, desperate to hold onto her until his dying breath. She would promise to be always his, sealing her promise with a magical kiss.

“This is my turning!” Belle declared suddenly, breaking Rumald’s fantasy.

Rumald braked hard and turned into her street, glancing at her to show her a small embarrassed smile. Holding back a giggle, Belle slowly shook her head at him, her smile giving away her amusement. He saw the house Gaston had rented from him approaching and slowed to pull up at the end of the drive.

Her gaze went up to the house before she looked to Rumald. “Thank you for the ride home.”

“It was my pleasure, Miss French.” He genuinely smiled at her.

Swiftly, Belle edged closer to him and leaned into him to place a soft, sweet kiss on his cheek. His eyes went wide and when she had pulled slightly back from him, he snapped his gaze to meet her eyes. Rumald could feel the warmth of her breath wash over him as he studied her face, eager to see some sort of a sign that she wanted him to kiss her as much as he did. The smile she had been smiling at him, slowly left her lips, leaving her face emotionless. Something edged him to angle himself towards her, closing the gap between them. Eagerly her lips parted with her eyes darting down from his eyes to his lips. Rumald stopped, catching movement over her shoulder.

He titled his head to get a better view through the windscreen and saw Gaston stood on the doorstep, watching them in the car. “You better go.”

Belle whipped round to follow his gaze as Rumald said. “I’ll see you tomorrow at the dance studio.”

“Yes.” She agreed opening her car door.

Rumald refused to say anything more to her. She closed the car door without saying anything further as well and trekked up the driveway to meet with Gaston on the doorstep. As he put the car into gear, Rumald saw Gaston gesture towards Rumald and his car, looking very cross as he spoke to Belle. He probably should have just pulled away, but Rumald waited until they inside the house and had closed the front door. Driving away, a part of him worried for her, while he grinned like a complete fool, loving how his little scheme to give her his phone number had developed into so much more.


	13. Chapter 13

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Gaston confronts Rumald about the night before and warns him off of Belle.

It had been hard for Rumald to drag himself out of bed the next morning, wanting to stay with Belle in his dreams. He had gone to sleep, wondering what could have happened in the car, if he had not caught Gaston spying on them. Most of his night had been spent tossing and turning: dreaming of them kissing, speculating what had happened once they closed the front door, living it over and over again. The one thing he was sure of though, with all of his musings about it, Belle had not been about to pull back from him. Rumald could only think she had wanted it too, desiring to feel his lips upon hers, and that was a killer. Without saying it, Belle had given herself away to him and now it drove him mad, because it was up to her. She had all of the power and he was left wanting her, while she muddled her way through. The only thing, Rumald could hold onto with certainty, was there was a chance for them to be together, picking him over Gaston. It was a long shot, but Rumald always enjoyed favouring the underdog, even better when the underdog was himself.

He was meant to be listening to the Mayor, prattle on about the fun fair on Saturday, urging them to attend and support the sisters in reaching their total. Rumald could not care. They could go homeless for all he cared about them. All Rumald cared about as he sat there listening to them, was knowing whether she would have gone through with the kiss. His hand was in his pocket, rubbing furiously at the bobble in his pocket, but it did nothing to stem his thoughts of Belle. His fear called him a coward as he pondered over, whether she would have returned his kiss or would she have pushed him away. He tried to groan his annoyance out, bursting to know the answer to his question.

“Mr Gold?” The Mayor called his name, bringing Rumald back to the meeting.

“Yes?” He asked sitting up straighter in his chair, gazing round at the other faces at the table.

The Mayor gave him a questioning look. “You were groaning.”

“Sorry,” Rumald lied to Mayor. “I stubbed my toe under the table.”

The other six members around the table stared at him. Rumald was disinterested in their looks, settling back into his chair. The Mayor gained everyone’s attention by moving the meeting on, bringing up the subject of the school budget. He wondered why he even attended these meetings, when all they ever did was bore him. The agenda was always the same: discussing civil matters, budgets for this and that, and deciding colour schemes for future holiday events. The only reason, Rumald had gotten himself onto the council, was to have some sway with council officials.

“Are there any other matters to discuss?” The Mayor asked everyone, his hand posed to shut his folder of papers.

There was a unanimous ‘no’ from everyone occupying the table. “Then we will meet again in two weeks.”

Rumald shot up from his chair, grabbing his overcoat from the back of it, and hurried out of the room. He fed his arms into his coat as he walked the corridor and headed down the stairs, pulling his coat up and over his shoulders, tugging at the lapels of his overcoat. Jogging from the last step of the stairs to the entrance of the Town Hall, Rumald pulled the door open and left the Town Hall.

Finally, free, Rumald checked his watch to see it was nearly time for their lesson at the dance studio. The thought of seeing her spurred him to increase his pace, walking back to Main Street to cut down to the dance studio. Reaching inside his overcoat, Rumald pulled out his sunglasses and put them on as he walked. He grinned thinking about her, feeling a spring in his step. There was no use in hiding it. Rumald was well aware of the stupid grin on his face and could not deny it. A peace settled over him, knowing in ten minutes, he would be back in her presence and holding her close as they danced, smelling her sweet perfume.

The corner onto Main Street was insight, so Rumald pushed himself to move quicker, while trying to maintain a walking pace. He gazed over to the library, expecting her to be leaving the library around this time. As he held his gaze on the library’s door, Rumald missed seeing the figure hurrying across the road from the direction of his shop, but was well aware of them when they shoved him into the wall beside him. Rumald moaned at the pain in his shoulder, slammed hard into the brick wall.

“What was that about last night?” Gaston interrogated him, grabbing handfuls of Rumald’s overcoat to pin him against the wall, holding him firmly in place.

“What was what about?” Rumald played stupid, buying some time to get his bearings.

Gaston tightened his hold on Rumald’s overcoat, shoving him again into the wall. “You and Belle! What were you doing?”

“Giving your fiancée a ride home.” He answered truthfully, while peering over Gaston’s hold on him to see his sunglasses on the ground, one of the lenses was cracked.

“It was more than that!” Gaston lifted Rumald up onto his tiptoes, using Rumald’s overcoat as leverage.

“That would be your guilty conscious talking.” Rumald squared his attention on Gaston as he said. “Let go of me.”

Gaston slammed Rumald into the wall behind him again. “Not until you tell me, what was going on last night!”

Losing his patience, Rumald grabbed a hold of Gaston by his shoulders and kneed the younger man hard into his chest. Instantly, Gaston let go of Rumald and stumbled a step or two backwards, clutching vainly at his chest, gasping for air. Taking a couple of steps away from Gaston, Rumald yanked at the lapels of his overcoat and ran his hands down the front of his coat, chasing away the wrinkles Gaston had made. As he watched Gaston try to gain his breath back, Rumald considered maybe it was his height that had made people think he was an easy target. It had been a frequent thing as he was growing up, getting bullied and attacked by other boys, which was why he was very adept at looking after himself and why Gaston was now winded.

“You stay away from her!” Gaston wheezed pointing his finger at Rumald, trying to stand up straight.

“I don’t think so, dearie.” Rumald shifted his gaze down to his broken sunglasses.

Gaston took a step towards Rumald with a hand pressed to his chest. “I’m warning you!”

“Warn all you like,” Rumald was growing tired of the conversation and began to walk away from Gaston. “I’m not staying away from her.”

As he followed the corner of the sidewalk onto Main Street, Rumald pulled back his sleeve to see he was late for their lesson and hurried his pace. He was well aware, as he walked, that Gaston was following him, hearing his feet pound the sidewalk behind him. Rumald growled to himself, annoyed with Gaston for following him. It meant the idiot was coming to the class with him.

Jerking open the door to the dance studio, Rumald entered hastily with Gaston close on his tail and bypassed Mal at the reception desk to head up the stairs to their usual studio. Belle was already in the room, sat on the floor with her book in her hands, eating up the pages of her book whilst she waited. He hated the fact, he had lost an opportunity to adore her from a far, with Gaston bursting into the room close behind him. Gaston shoved Rumald out of the way and stomped his way over to Belle, scaring her from her book to look up at her fiancé now towering over her.

“Look who I found outside.” Rumald announced to the room to gain their attention and said to prevent Gaston from taking her away. “Gaston was just saying, he’s been looking forward to coming to class today.”

“You did?” Belle inquired, gazing up at Gaston from the floor.

“Wha…” Gaston was confused, looking between Rumald and Belle. “I…”

Belle climbed up onto her feet, grabbing Gaston’s hand for support, as she said to Gaston. “I knew you’d come round to it.”

Now it was Rumald’s turn to feel winded, watching Belle tiptoe up to kiss Gaston on the cheek. While Gaston blinked at his confusion, Rumald ripped his overcoat from his shoulders and snatched his arms out of his coat, griping to himself that he should have floored Gaston. Being on the brink of losing his temper, Rumald crossed to the sound system and dumped his coat onto the stool without folding it. He stopped with his back to them, ignoring the lies coming out of Gaston’s mouth as he explained how he had felt bad and wanted to come for her. ‘ _Bullshit!’_ , Rumald inwardly shouted at another lie leaving Gaston’s mouth.

“You’ve missed a few dances.” Belle explained to Gaston.

“I’m sure you’ll be able to show me.” Gaston said to her in a smooth tone.

Rumald shook his head as he removed his suit jacket to discard on top of his coat, as Belle said. “I’ll show you later.”

“Sure, babe.” Rumald could hear the sickly grin on Gaston’s face as he spoke.

He wanted to yell at the top of his lungs. He wanted to kick the living daylights out of the sound system, throw the stool through the window and destroy anything else he could get his hands on. Rumald’s anger hummed through his limbs, itching to be released. His whole body felt ready to explode, taking out everything and everyone who got in his way.

“Mr Gold,” Belle placed her hand onto his shoulder, defeating his temper and drawing his attention to her. “Are we finishing the waltz today?”

“Yes.” Rumald answered her.

In her eyes, Rumald could see she was disappointed with the fact, Gaston would be joining them. It was strange to see she was disappointed, seeing as Gaston was her fiancé and as she had admitted, she had thought they could do these classes together to have a common interest. Instead, all the dance lessons had done, was ignite something in Rumald’s heart, which he had long ago decided to deny himself. Nevertheless, seeing her disappointment, Rumald forcefully grabbed hold of his solace with both hands, telling himself he could get through this evening for her sake.

“We’ll go over the steps for Gaston’s sake.” Rumald stated to the room, while holding Belle’s gaze.

“Okay.” She smiled at him.

Edging closer to the sound system, Rumald felt the heavy bereavement of losing her touch from his arm. He breathed in deeply to settle himself, sure she would not feed his need for her touch again that evening, and set the waltz playlist to play. Behaving himself and keeping things professional for her, Rumald took Gaston through the steps of the waltz, exchanging dirty looks with Gaston as the lesson progressed. By the end of the two hours, Belle and Gaston were waltzing around the room like they had been dancing all of their lives together. Rumald stood by the mirror glass wall, pretending it was him dancing with Belle. He did notice as they were dancing, she did not seem to smile as much as she had the previous lesson. After finishing the lesson, Rumald bid them goodnight and gave Gaston one last pointed look as the couple left together.

As Rumald put on his suit jacket, he thought about whether all this trouble was worth it. At the end of the day, was she really worth fighting for? He really wanted the answer to be yes. Maybe, it was loneliness after all, driving him to pursue another woman he could never have. Like he had told Belle, you cannot miss something, you never had in the first place. Stewing on that gloomy thought, Rumald collected his overcoat from the stool and put it on, running his hands down the lapels to make sure he was presentable. His chest felt tight as Rumald tried to decide what to do.

His phone vibrated against his chest and rung out disturbing the silence of the dance studio. Reaching into the inside pocket of his suit jacket, Rumald pulled his phone out and smiled seeing his son was calling him.

“Hey, Neal.” He greeted beginning to leave the dance studio.

“Hey, dad.” Neal returned the warm greeting. “How’re things?”

“So, so. You?” Rumald returned the question as he descended the stairs.

“Not too bad. Are you doing anything Saturday?” Neal asked.

Rumald shook his head, whilst he pushed open the entrance door to the dance studio. “Nope.”

“Mind if I come home for the weekend?” Rumald smiled at the idea as Neal continued. “We could have some dinner, grab some beers, bitch about mum.”

“Sure, son.” Rumald grinned crossing the road. “Whatever you want. Just be nice to see you.”

He could hear Neal smiling as he spoke. “Great. I’ll be there about midday.”

“Can’t wait.” Rumald followed the corner of the sidewalk onto Main Street.

“See you then.” Neal said and did not wait for Rumald to say bye, hanging up the phone on his father.

It did not matter to Rumald that his son did not wait for him to say bye, just hearing from him was enough to brighten his mood. He dipped his hand inside his suit jacket, underneath his overcoat, and returned his phone to the inside pocket, looking up in time to see Belle and Gaston further up the sidewalk. She was glancing back over her shoulder, while she was dragged along the path by Gaston. It would have been easy for him to fly into blind fury and demand that Gaston let her go, but… She was not his, she was Gaston’s and that was her decision, he told himself ducking his head down from the sight of her.


	14. Chapter 14

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Regina returns early from her trip and takes Rumald for a drink to say thank you.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Song:  
> Martin Garrix & David Guetta – So Far Away

Sat on the stool in the corner with the sound system, Rumald observed the students in his class waltzing clockwise around the room. He was thankful it was nearly the end of their class and would finally be the end of his week. The week had held some ups and downs for Rumald and he would gladly take the downs on his chin, as long as he got to go home soon and enjoy a glass of whiskey on his own. He was tired and bed was sounding more and more inviting, the more he thought about it. At least in bed, Rumald could have her all to himself, possessing her and worshipping her all at the same time, all in the comfort of his own bed. He sighed to himself at the thought, glancing to the clock to see he was there for another twenty minutes.

Rumald crossed his arms, scrutinising Leroy and Astrid as they waltzed by him. He had drawn a line with them, deciding a small trace of imperfection would not hurt this once. There three count kept becoming four, or even two, with Leroy unable to keep the rhythm. Seeing how Astrid was smiling at Leroy, Rumald had let that be enough for them. As long as they were enjoying themselves that would be good enough for Rumald. It was not like aspired to compete professional.

The sound of heels clicking into the dance studio caught Rumald’s attention, hearing her footsteps over the music, and looked to see Regina coming over to him. “You’re early.”

“I got bored.” She told him flippantly and added. “Also, I seem to have some entrants for next week’s competition needing some help.”

“I’m sure Mal could handle it.” Rumald remarked with his eyes drifting after Leroy and Astrid, unable to help himself from spotting the missteps.

“She probably could, but I want to make sure, everything is spot on before they go.” Regina said standing beside him, crossing her arms over her chest, while her gaze inspected the couples waltzing.

Rumald leaned on the stool towards Regina, lowering his voice to say. “Don’t pay attention to Leroy and Astrid then.”

“I try not to.” Regina joined Rumald in watching as the said couple passed in front of them.

Together, they watched over the class, leaving them to waltz the twenty minutes away. Sensing it was nearly seven o’clock, Rumald leaned over the sound system and ended the playlist. The couples drifted to a stop, while Regina clapped her hands at the group and smiled at all of them.

“Well done, everyone.” Regina raised her voice to be heard by everyone. “Nice to see your time with Mr Gold has been worthwhile. You all looked to have progressed quite nicely.”

“It’s nice to see you’re back, Regina.” Mary-Margaret smiled at her step-sister, genuinely pleased to see her.

A slight smile pushed back the corners of Rumald’s lips, knowing Regina’s step-sister was not just pleased to see her step-sister, but was also glad to her teacher back. Rumald did not care. He would be glad to have his Monday’s and Friday’s evenings free again. It had sealed it for Rumald, teaching was not something he wanted to do ever again. Especially, if it meant teaching anyone present in the dance studio with him and Regina.

“Which means, I’ll be taking the evening class from Monday onwards.” Regina announced to them.

Rumald stood up from the stool as the class swamped around Regina, asking her questions about her holiday and the outcome of the dance competition. He collected his overcoat from floor behind his stool and shook it out before he put it on. As he tugged the sleeves of either arm, Rumald looked up to see Regina coming over to join him again, giving everyone a small wave whilst they left the room as group.

“Any trouble?” Regina asked him, resting a hand onto the edge of the sound system.

“Nothing, I couldn’t handle.” He replied to her.

“Good.” Regina smiled at him. “Interested in teaching again?”

Rumald could not say it fast enough. “No!”

Regina pouted her lips at him as she moved closer to him to get hold of his arm, wrapping her arm around his arm, and led him from the room. “I know you miss it really. You were so good at it.” She waved her free hand to indicate the room. “And the class look like they’ve come on really well.”

“No.” He told her, padding his hand on top of her hand on his arm.

“Sure?” She urged him, pressing herself into his side, giving him her sweetest smile.

“Very sure.” Rumald said confidently, stepping to the side to let her through the door first.

Regina laughed and said over her shoulder, beginning down the stairs. “Okay, but let’s go for a drink, so I can thank you.”

“Oh, no.” He shook his head at her, though she could not see him. “I’m tired, Regina. Maybe another night.”

She waited for him on the landing before the next set of stairs and retook possession of his arm, urging him. “Please, Rumald, just one drink.”

Rumald angled his head to see her beside him as they descended the stairs together and gave into her, rolling his eyes with a shake of his head. He did not have to tell her she had won, she knew instantly, tightening her hold around his arm. They walked by Mal together, heading to the entrance of the dance studio.

“The Rabbit Hole is closest.” Regina commented as they exited the dance studio.

Rumald pulled a face at the idea of going to the Rabbit Hole. “Their choice in whiskey is questionable.”

Regina placed her other hand on his chest, telling him. “I’ll make sure you get the good stuff.”

“If it’s not, I’ll leave.” He promised, tucking his hands into his overcoat pockets, feeling the cold air nip at his hands.

She grinned at him, nudging her shoulder into his as they walked. Shaking his head at himself, Rumald tried again for the hundredth time, in the last three weeks, to figure out why did let her talk him into doing things. Rumald had tried to hate Regina after Cora had dumped him. He had not wanted anything to do with anything that was associated with Cora or dancing. Wanting to shut that part of his life away for good. Still, Regina had managed to weigh him down and got him to agree to teach her privately. Secretly, they had met, dancing together after hours at a dance studio or would meet at Rumald’s house, keeping it a secret from her mother. All those years, Rumald had trained her and supported her by attending competitions, he had found himself caring for her as if she was the daughter he always wanted. The daughter he should have had with Cora.

“Come on, old man.” Regina tugged on his arm and unhooked her arm to open the door to the Rabbit Hole.

“Less of the old.” Rumald returned grabbing hold of the door to follow her into the bar.

The bar was loud as they entered, finding the bar was heaving with Storybrooke residents, ready to get their weekend started. Regina touched his arm to gain his attention and pointed to the far side of the bar. He nodded his head and followed close behind her, squeezing by people when Regina excused their way through. Rumald could not get over how busy the bar was, wandering his eyes over the sea of heads to see several people dancing on the dancefloor.

“Two whiskeys.” Regina shouted at the barman, holding up two of her fingers to him.

Rumald propped himself onto the bar beside Regina with his elbow, looking by her to the dancefloor. “Busy.”

“What did you expect?” She inquired inclining herself towards Rumald. “It’s Friday night!”

It was an obvious reason for why it was so busy, though for Rumald, it still astounded him that so many people would be attending the Rabbit Hole. Granted, he thought with his gaze looking from face to face in the bar, most of the people in the bar looked young enough to be his child. He surmised it was his age and the fact, he never went out on a Friday night anymore, not since he was married to Milah. Responsibilities and building his business had taken his time, leaving any of his free time at the time for Neal and dancing. Which, sadly, was probably why Milah had left him and sought the arms of another man.

“Here you go.” Regina handed him a glass of whiskey.

“Thanks.” He responded angling his glass to look at the whiskey and then dipped his nose into the glass to smell it.

Taking a chance, Rumald sipped some of the liquor and was pleasantly surprised to find it was drinkable. Regina nodded her head in a direction and Rumald looked to see a free table. They headed over to the table together and when they were close enough, Rumald quickened his step to pull out a chair for Regina. He waited until she was seated and took the other seat at the table.

“How’re the lovebirds getting on?” Regina asked him, tilting herself in Rumald’s favour.

“Lovebirds?” Rumald was confused, scrunching his brow at Regina.

“The private sessions with the couple?” Regina smiled at his obvious confusion.

Rumald raised and lowered his head in a large nod, understanding her meaning. It was then it occurred to him. He had lost his main way of seeing Belle without needing a reason. If he went to the library, he would have to loan a book every time he went in or think of an excuse for being in the library. Trying to plan to bump into her at lunch would be tricky, seeing as she did not take her lunch at a set time and always met with Ruby at Grannies. A headache was starting to form as Rumald thought of any possible way he could see her frequently, without raising too many eyebrows.

“Rumald?” Regina touched his forearm on the table.

“Sorry,” Rumald snapped his head to look at her. “What?”

Her brow creased at him. “I was asking you how the engaged couple were getting on.”

“He’s not interested. She’s pretty good.” He smiled thinking about Belle. “She’s picks it up pretty quick. Very natural.”

“Meaning, he needs the work and she’ll pick it up. Got’cha.” Regina said, taking note of what he had said.

Rumald drank some of his whiskey and said to her. “That’s if he continues to come to class.” He placed his glass down onto the table. “He’s been reluctant to turn up.”

“I’m sure, I can persuade him to come to class.” Regina flashed her eyelashes at him, making him chuckle at her.

“You would think, his fiancée, would be enough to persuade him.” Rumald commented to her, thinking Belle was more than enough reason for him to do anything she wanted. Walk across the Sahara Desert? Yes, ma’am. Without water? Yes, ma’am.

“I normally find, the ones that don’t want to come class, are the ones going elsewhere or aren’t that interested in their fiancée.” Regina shared with him as she raised her glass to her lips.

Rumald raised an eyebrow at her, impressed with how astute Regina could be. “You think so?”

Regina nodded her head at him. “Oh, yeah. Happens all the time.”

“You’ll have to let me know, what the outcome is on that one.” He told her before sipping from his whiskey.

Lowering his glass down onto the table, Rumald’s gaze fell onto the dancefloor as he licked the remnants of his whiskey from his lips. Through the throng of dancers, he recognised her smile, beaming out to him like a lighthouse. His chest heaved with the unexpected breath he took, awestruck by her beauty. The sea of dancers parted for him, revealing more of Belle to him. He sat back into his chair to appreciate the view of her. She was dancing with her friend Ruby, both carefree as they moved to the beat together, laughing and smiling with everyone surrounding them. In his mind’s eye, there was no one else apart from Belle on the dancefloor, dancing energetically to the beat.

“Rumald,” Regina placed her hand on his forearm, breaking the spell over him. “Are you okay?”

“Yes. Quite.” He smiled to reassure her, glimpsing to Belle on the dancefloor.

She began to turn her head to follow his gaze to the dancefloor, but Rumald stopped her by placing his hand on top of hers still on his forearm. “Where did you go on your little vacation?”

“Oh… Erm…” Regina stuttered, caught off guide and said. “The competition was in Germany, so I spent a few days there. Then I spent a few days in Paris, moving onto London from there. From London, I flew down to Spain.”

She smiled remembering her few days in Spain, telling him the details, however Rumald had stopped listening after Germany. Out of the corner of his eye, Rumald was secretly watching Belle, tailing her across the room as Ruby and her left the dancefloor to get a drink from the bar. Flicking his eyes by Regina’s head, Rumald spied on Belle, hungrily roaming his eyes over the black dress she was wearing and down to her high heels.

“And then, I ran naked through the streets, screaming at the top of lungs that I’m the Virgin Mary.” Regina told him, an eyebrow raised with a small trace of a smile.

“Excuse me?” Rumald’s eyebrows pressed heavily down over his eyes.

“Who are you looking at?” She twisted round in her seat, trying to spot whoever was distracting Rumald.

Rumald reached across the table and grabbed her hand to bring her back to him. “Nobody.”

Regina shifted in her seat, asking. “Isn’t that…?”

“It’s nobody.” Rumald insisted, tugging her arm.

“No, that’s Miss French…?” Regina whipped her head round to him. “From the private class?”

“Is it…?” He tried to slip his mask into place, hiding his emotions from Regina, while he titled his head to look by her at Belle.

Regina pointed at him, waving her hand up and down through the air to indicate Rumald, as she questioned him. “What’s that? What are you doing?”

“What?” He asked feigning his ignorance at her questions.

“You…” She shifted back round to face him, leaning over the table towards him. “Rumald, you’re not…?”

“What?” Rumald repeated at her.

One side of Regina’s lips pulled back into a wicked smile. “You like her, don’t you?”

He squinted his eyes at her seeking answers in her face, not understanding how she could possibly know that. “How…?”

“I’ve known you a long time, Rumald.” Her smile softened and she reached up to touch his confused face.

“Yes, well…” Rumald grabbed her hand touching his face and lowered it to the table, glancing round to see if anyone was looking at them.

“Why do you have to go after the ones, you can’t have?” Regina asked him bluntly.

He shook his head. “I wish I knew.”

“Good evening, Mr Gold.” They both looked up to see Belle and Ruby walking by their table, carrying their drinks in their hands.

“Miss French.” Rumald returned graciously, his gaze split between Belle and Regina.

Regina looked round to Belle and Ruby and smiled welcomingly at them, following them with her eyes as they walked by their table, heading to a table surrounded by more women. Turning his head to follow them, Rumald felt a small pain in his chest, yearning for her to come back and talk to him. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Regina face the table and finish off rest of her whiskey, missing Belle glimpsing over her shoulder at him. It was a fleeting look, but it was enough to drive Rumald’s heart wild.

“You’re better off looking away now.” Regina advised him. “Otherwise, people will be talking about you gawking at someone else’s fiancée.”

Rumald did as she advised, saying to her. “They’ll just think she owes me money.”

“Not by the way you’re looking at her.” Regina remarked.

“Let them talk.” He said dryly and downed the rest of his own whiskey, and then asked Regina. “Care for another?”

“What happened to having one drink?” She asked sliding her glass over the table to him.

“One drink always leads to two drinks.” He quipped standing up to remove his overcoat and then picked up their empty glasses to take to the bar.

Whilst he strolled over to the bar, Rumald kept his gaze from roaming over to her, focusing on the bar and finding a space at the actual bar to get served. Having to wait, he waited behind a group of young girls, who Rumald decided needed to have their IDs checked again. They giggled and glanced back at him, whispering about him as he rolled his eyes at them. The group received their drinks and gave Rumald a look over their shoulders, while they wandered away from the bar, disappearing into the crowd. Rumald shook his head placing the whiskey glasses onto the bar.

“Same again.” Rumald stated to the barman, who took the empty glasses from the bar.

Pulling his money clip out from his pocket, Rumald removed a twenty-dollar bill from his clip and shoved the large wad back into his pocket as someone said to him. “Strange to see you in here.”

Inclining himself to see who was talking to him, he was confused for a moment when he saw nobody there and turned around, hearing a giggle on the other side of him. Rumald felt an ease wash over him, removing the tension that had weighed on him. He wanted to be so much more for her. Be worthy of her hand. If he had been more of that man, Rumald would not have let her walk away last night with Gaston. Would have told her the truth about Gaston. Instead, he was a man who had to resort to scheming and lying to get what he wanted.

“Regina insisted.” He supplied his reason for being there.

“I didn’t think she was back for another week.” Belle said to him, shifting closer to him as someone else tried getting to the bar behind her.

“Here you go, Mr Gold.” The bartender said, placing two whiskeys in front of him.

Rumald indicated the bar to Belle. “Would you like a drink?”

“No, no.” She smiled and touched her hand to his forearm. “I’ve already got a drink. I came to order some food for our table.”

“Order it.” He instructed her, loving how brave she was to touch him in public.

“I couldn’t. I’ll order after you.” Belle said to him, squeezing his forearm under her hand.

Rumald shifted to face her, bringing them closer than he had ever been to her before, brushing their hips together. “Order your food.”

“I couldn’t possibly. Pay for your drinks.” She shook her head forcefully at him.

“Seriously, order your food.” Rumald insisted.

Belle opened her mouth to refuse again, but the bartender said. “Belle, just order your food. If Mr Gold wants to pay, let him.”

Letting his gaze move to the bartender, Rumald did not know whether to thank the bartender or not as Belle gave him her order. “Large seafood platter, BBQ platter, large fries and onion rings.”

“Sounds… healthy.” Rumald commented as he brought his money out again to take more money from it.

“It’s girl’s night.” She told him with a smile. “Not meant to be.”

He handed the money to the bartender and collected his drinks from the bar. “Keep the change.”

There was a distant ‘thank you’ from the bartender as he moved away to the cash register, Rumald was not really listening or cared, as he said to Belle. “Are you in here often?”

“Most Fridays and Saturdays.” She replied.

“Surprised you’re not at home, curled up with a book.” He remarked, picturing her sat in his own living room, reading a book in front of the fire.

“That would be nice.” Belle’s smile widened at the image. “I don’t get chance to read much at home. Too noisy with Gaston.”

Rumald tried to refrain from frowning, further hating Gaston from stopping her from doing something she loves, and said. “Wouldn’t have that problem at my house.”

She chuckled. “Also, the fact you live on your own helps.”

“It does.” He turned to make a start back to their table, but found he could not bring himself to leave her. “But I also have a library in my house, nice and private.”

“You have your own library?” Her eyes brightened at the mention of his private library.

“I’d rather read than watch TV.” Rumald shared with her.

He felt her hand clasp at his elbow as she placed her other hand on his forearm again. “I’d love to have my own library.”

“Technically… I think you already do.” Rumald said to her, enjoying the sight of her laughing.

“Very true.” She said with her laughter dying off.

“Would you care to dance, Miss French?” He asked out of the blue, not only surprising her but himself as well.

Belle glanced over to where her friends were and then to Rumald, and said. “I’d love to, Mr Gold.”

The smile on his face exploded wide across his face, pushing his cheeks back with his smile going the widest it had in a long time. His face hurt, however Rumald did not care, seeing Belle return his smile. Whispering an ‘excuse me’ to her, Rumald hastily walked over to the table Regina was occupying and placed their drinks onto the table. She was asking him where he had been for their drinks, questioning how long he had been, but Rumald hurried back to Belle.

A blush had crept its way up her neck to her cheeks, giving her skin a rosy tint. He offered his hand to her and waited for her to place her hand inside of his. Once Belle had placed her hand inside of his, Rumald carefully closed his fingers around her hand, minding her delicate fingers, and escorted her to the dancefloor. With the hand he held, Rumald twirled her round as they stepped onto the dancefloor and captured her into his arms. The blush on her cheeks deepened as Rumald began to move them in time with the music. Her hand slid to its home on his shoulder with her fingers lightly digging into the material of his suit jacket. They looked into each other’s faces, holding the other’s gaze, while their bodies touched. Rumald swallowed nervously, tightening his hold around her, never wanting to let her go again.

“I have a confession.” Belle said abruptly to him.

His eyebrows raised slightly up his forehead. “A confession?”

“I wasn’t really coming to the bar to order food. I was, but I wasn’t. I just wanted an excuse.” She told him, guiltily looking away from him.

Squashing his brow down over his eyes, Rumald carried on swaying with her as he asked. “Excuse for what?”

Belle looked up to meet his gaze. “I wanted to come and talk to you.”

“Oh…” Was all he could managed to utter to her confession.

“This is more than I could have imagined happening.” She commented moving her hand on his shoulder to touch her fingertips to his neck, tickling the small hairs on the back of his neck.

Rumald took in a shuddering breath at her touch. “What did you want to talk about?”

“Did you make Gaston come to class yesterday?” Belle questioned him.

“Kind of…” He hated that realistically he was the reason Gaston had come to class, ruining his time alone with Belle.

“Thank you.” She said with a small smile, though the smile did not reach her eyes.

Her smile was shameful attempt at mimicking her usual smile. There was no twinkle in her eyes. The smile hardly pushed back her cheeks to show the shallow dimples in her cheeks. Her normal dazzling smile would reveal her teeth, but this smile was just flat. There was no real emotion behind her smile.

“As long as it made you happy, dearie.” Rumald said to her, though he suspected she felt the total opposite.

Belle titled her head to the side as she spoke. “Well, we’ll see whether he turns up on Tuesday.”

His hand on her back splayed and kept her close, refusing to say anything more on the subject. Rumald did not have the heart to tell her the truth, that he would not be there for her class on Tuesday. He feared it would break the spell over them, ruining this private moment between them. Promising himself, he told himself he would tell her after their dance, willing to deal with the repercussions then, instead of losing her now. At least as they swayed together, Rumald could pretend she was already his and she reciprocated his feelings, and they were going to live happily ever after.

The song began to end. Slowing their sway to stop, Rumald made himself smile, even though he was torn inside at the thought of losing her closeness. She took a gingerly step backwards from him. He held his hand to her, wanting to gain some contact with her again, and she accepted his hand, following behind him as he led her from the dancefloor back to the bar area, where they had met earlier.

“Thank you for the dance, Mr Gold.” She smiled at him, giving him a full blown smile, when he turned to face her.

“No, thank you, Miss French.” He inclined himself forward, giving her a small bow. “You’ve made my evening.”

Belle gestured to somewhere behind him. “I better get back to the girls.”

Getting the courage together to tell her, Rumald opened his mouth to tell her and watched helplessly as she swiftly zipped by him and went back to the table she had occupied earlier. He hated himself. He hated she was gone so quickly. He hated he had not told her. He hated he was too much of a coward to call her back and tell her he would not be teaching her anymore.

Although, Rumald mulled over whether it was such a bad thing he had not told her. If his suspicions were true, maybe she would seek him out after she found out he would not be teaching her anymore. If Belle was as interested in him as he was in her, she would feel the need to find him. Making up an excuse to see him, just like she had done tonight. Rumald smiled thinking it through, observing her with her friends as she squeezed into the bench seat to sit beside Ruby. He felt so certain he was right, as though he could see it in his future.

Rumald ambled to his seat at their table and sat down to see Regina smirking at him. “You’re in such trouble.”

He knew her words were true as he picked up glass to take a drink from it and placed his glass down, looking over his shoulder towards Belle. A ghost of a smile played over his features, while he watched her laugh with her friends and helped herself to the food on their table. She had turned his world upside down and Rumald could only find himself wanting more of it.


	15. Chapter 15

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Neal meets his father at Grannie and the pair end up at the fun fair.

His newspaper was held up in front of him, reading through all the local stories, while Rumald waited for his son to arrive at Grannies. Neal had rung when he was an hour from Storybrooke, giving Rumald plenty of time to walk from his home into town and claim a table for them to have their lunch at Grannies. Neal always had a soft spot for Grannies food and had spent a lot of his high school years, hanging out in Grannies with his friends. He knew his son would appreciate meeting there and voiced as much when Rumald had told him he would meet him at Grannies. Some would argue Grannies was the centre of Storybrooke. Rumald was not in favour of this argument, but he had to agree, most of the residents did partake in socialising at Grannies. Which was why, at Saturday lunchtime, the place was heaving with most of Storybrooke and Rumald had been lucky to find a free table.

Letting one side of his newspaper droop, Rumald reached for his coffee on the table and drank from it, blissfully ignorant to the whispers about him from the other tables. He placed his coffee cup back onto the table and snapped his newspaper back up in front of him, blocking out everyone else in the diner. It was unusual for him to stay at the diner to eat. Normally, he would order his food and take it back to his shop, happy to be shut himself away in the back of his shop. This was one of the reasons why. It was old and tiring to hear everyone gossiping about him, even if he did not care what they said.

The door the diner opened and Rumald peered over his newspaper to see it was not Neal. He shook his head slightly, returning to an article about the lack of fish and how another fishery was possibly closing after seventy-five years in business. At the same time, Rumald smirked at the opportunity for a deal to be made and the door to Grannies opened.

Dropping his newspaper down to see the door, Rumald smiled genuinely at seeing his son enter Grannies and folded his newspaper as he stood to greet his son with a hug. “It’s good to see you, son.”

“You too.” Neal returned his father’s hug, clutching at the back of Rumald’s white shirt. “Traffic was hell.”

“That’s one of the reasons your mother and I moved away from the city.” Rumald waved for his son to take a seat and retook the bench he had been sat on, and discarded his newspaper to the seat beside him.

Neal removed his coat and put it next to him on his seat. “So strange to be here.” His son was scanning his eyes around the room. “Hasn’t changed a bit.”

“Neither has Grannie.” Rumald commented dryly, eyeing Grannie out of the corner of his eye behind the counter.

“No,” Neal chuckled. “She doesn’t look like she’s aged a day.”

“Must be that famous lasagne of hers.” Rumald pulled a dissatisfied face, sure he could taste her lasagne as he thought about it.

Neal made a satisfied noise before he said. “Now, I want her lasagne.”

“Oh, no.” Rumald shook his head at his son. “Don’t. I don’t even think I could stomach the smell.”

“Well, if it isn’t the young Mr Gold.” Grannie said approaching their table and offered menus to the two occupants.

“Hello Grannie.” Neal smiled at the older woman, taking one of the menus from her.

As Rumald reached to take the other menu, Grannie tossed it into Rumald’s lap, saying to Neal. “How are things in the big city?”

Rumald picked the menu up from his lap, glaring up at Grannie, as Neal sweet talked her. “It’s good, Grannie, but I can’t find anywhere that does food like you.”

“I doubt you ever will.” Grannie said to him and turned her attention to Rumald, gesturing to his son. “You could take a leaf out of son’s book.”

“Can I order some food?” Rumald ignored her comment.

“You can, if you say ‘please’.” Grannie told Rumald, smiling at Neal.

Letting out a small growl, Rumald rolled his eyes and said. “Please.”

Knowing she had won this battle with Rumald, Grannie reached into her apron and took out her notepad and pen, requesting their order. “What would you like?”

“Hamburger and fries, extra gherkins and another black coffee.” Rumald held his menu for Grannie to take and caught the evil look Grannie gave him. “Please.” Her glare turned into smile again as she took the menu from Rumald.

Neal offered the menu to Grannie, placing his order. “I’ll have same as my dad, but no gherkins and a strawberry milkshake.”

Grannie took his menu from him giving Neal a smile and turned to walk away, sparing a moment to give a glare to Rumald. Holding his hands up to drop onto the table, Rumald was confused as to why Grannie always felt the need to give him a glare before she walked away. It was like she needed to get the last word or look in, one upping him. He had never really had a disagreement with Grannie. She paid on time, never gave him problems, yet she still treated him like the enemy. Although, Rumald had to admit to himself, to many in Storybrooke he was the enemy.

“So, how’s the shop doing?” Neal inquired, resting forearms onto the table.

“The same as usual.” Rumald turned his attention to Neal. “You know me. I’m always keeping myself busy.”

Neal smiled knowingly at his father, nodding his head at what his father had said, and said. “I’ve heard about you keeping yourself busy.”

“Heard what about me?” He asked his son.

“I’m on the Storybrooke Facebook page.” Neal explained to his father. “Someone put a post on there about you teaching dance again.”

Rumald waved his hands at Neal. “I’m not teaching dance again.” He stopped and corrected himself. “No, I was teaching dance, but it was a favour for Regina. I haven’t started dancing again. I swear.”

“Dad, I think it’s great.” Neal reached across the table and grabbed one of his father’s hands.

“You do?” Rumald was surprised to hear his son say that, seeing as dance was partly to blame for taking him away from Neal.

“You loved to dance.” Neal began to say, letting go of his father’s hand. “You with Cora was the problem. Not you dancing.”

Feeling guilty, Rumald bent his head down and retracted his hands down into his lap. Not being there for his son, abandoning him, still sat heavy in Rumald’s heart. Nothing he could ever do would make up for his absence from his son’s life. He twisted the silver ring on his right ring finger back and forth, needing something to work the tension out of him.

Neal could see the guilty thoughts of his father on his face and said. “Have you been enjoying it?”

“Enjoying what?” Rumald asked, nearly forgetting what they were talking about.

“Teaching? Dancing again?” Neal elaborated, smiling at his father.

“A little.” Rumald told him honestly, while holding back some of the truth.

The group classes had been fine and he had some enjoyment. His enjoyment had mostly come from terrorising the students. Making comments to them, which left them wondering whether they were compliments or insults always left him a smile on his face. Of course, the main class he had enjoyed was his private lessons with Belle.

Neal’s smile grew seeing the huge smile on his father’s face. “What are you smiling about?”

“Nothing.” Rumald drew his lips into a straight line, trying to remove all traces of his smile and pushing all thoughts of Belle away.

“Here you go.” Ruby balanced her serving tray on the edge of the table and placed their order onto the table. “Nice to see you, Neal.”

“Ruby.” Neal raised his eyebrows at Ruby. “How are you?”

“I’m good.” She smiled at Neal, lifting her serving tray off the table. “You?”

“Never better.” Neal told her, picking a fry off his plate to pop into his mouth.

Rumald ignored the interaction and grabbed the bottle of ketchup from by the napkin dispenser, and squirted an unhealthy amount onto his burger after lifting the bun top out of the way. The pair were still chatting as Rumald collected his burger from his plate and bit into it. While they prattled on about school and where friends were now that they knew in school, Rumald looked outside onto the patio area. He would not begrudge his son the chance to catch up on things, although he did feel his time with his son was precious. What gave him some comfort, was the fact Neal was planning to spend night at his father’s house, so they had time on their side.

“I’m sure that you’ll run into Emma, if you’re going to the fun fare today.” Ruby commented, shifting her weight on her hip. “She’s there with her mum. Candle stall, I think.”

“Oh, really…?” Neal mused over the small bit of information, picking another fry from his plate to eat.

“Anyway,” Ruby glanced over her shoulder. “I better get back to work.” And then left them to their meals.

Holding his burger in one hand, Rumald selected a gherkin from his plate and said to his son. “How are things at work?”

“They’re okay.” Neal was very unenthusiastic. “Just a bit boring designing apartment building after apartment building. Would be nice to do something else for a change.”

“Anything I can do to help?” Rumald inquired after finishing his gherkin.

“No, thanks, dad. Just got to work my way up and let my work speak for itself.” Neal told his father, picking his burger up from his plate.

After finishing his mouthful of his burger, Rumald said. “It wouldn’t be any trouble.”

Neal gave his father a pointed look. “I don’t need any help, dad.”

“Okay.” One side of Rumald’s lips pulled back into a slight smile.

The fact Neal had gotten to where he was today all on his own, made Rumald’s the proudest father in the world. Yes, Rumald felt guilty because he had not been there and had been disowned by his son for many years. He also felt guilty, because Neal’s mother had upped and left him as well, choosing someone else over their son. Many people probably would have drowned their abandonment issues, knocking back as many bottles as they could find. Possibly even snorting and injecting their troubles away. However, Neal had used the downfall of his parents to drive him through high school and college, coming out on top of both of his parents.

They finished their meals and left Grannies. Rumald followed Neal down the steps from Grannies porch area as he put on his overcoat and turned up the collar around his neck. With his hands in his overcoat pockets, Rumald held his overcoat closed and joined Neal on the sidewalk.

“Have we got anything planned for this afternoon?” Neal asked his father, delving his hands into the pockets of his coat.

“Not really.” Rumald said to him. “I was going to suggest we grab some beers on the way home, but apart from that, nothing else.”

Neal smiled at his father. “Fancy going to the fun fare?”

A groan escaped from Rumald. Did he want to go to the fun fare? Hell no! Anything to do with the nuns or aided the nuns to repairing their roof, from far from being of interest to Rumald. His distaste for the nuns had come from attending Catholic school back in Scotland. They had been the vilest women he had ever met. Dishing out punishments for any God given reason or any reason they felt deserved a punishment. When he was younger, he blamed his aunts for the hell the nuns gave him, but with age came wisdom and he understood now, they had only sent him there because it was the best school in the area.

“Not really.” Rumald was honest with his son.

“Come on, dad.” Neal slung his arm around his father’s shoulders. “It’ll be fun.”

“Fun and nuns?” Rumald questioned aloud, letting his son lead him down the sidewalk.

Neal leant into his father, saying. “No, fun with your son. Think about it like that.”

“Nuns, Neal.” Rumald really wanted to refuse his son, however, Neal knew he owned his father with the amount of guilt harbouring in his father’s heart.

“I swear I won’t leave you alone with them.” Neal promised his father, squeezing his father into his side.

The nearer they got to where the fun fare was being held, the more residents they came across, who were also heading towards the fun fare. Neal kept showing a smile to Rumald, whenever he caught his father looking at him, trying to gauge whether he could persuade his son into chilling out at home with his father. There was something in his son’s eyes. A sparkle of hope, maybe? Rumald did not know, but if it made his son happy that was all he cared about.

They followed a group of teenagers into an alleyway, cutting through to the high school sports field where the fun fare was being held. A few of them glanced back at him, whispering and gossiping about Mr Gold and the unknown man. More gossip that would be passed around Storybrooke. It used to be quite entertaining to hear the gossip being spread about him. These days, the gossip circulating around town was very tedious and very unoriginal. The latest he had heard was he must have been gay, now word had spread that he could dance, which was possibly why the kids in front of them kept glancing back at them and giggling. Rumald rolled his eyes and chose to ignore them, not wanting to ruin his time with Neal over some spotty kids.

“Come on, dad.” Neal sounded excited, slapping his father on his back.

Through the corner of his eye, Rumald looked at his son and shook his head in disbelief, not seeing a grown man but his ten-year-old son. He could not help the smile on his face, loving the look on his son’s face. How he would give anything to go back in time and make things right with his son, refusing to miss out on so many things.

Neal urged his father as they came out of the alleyway onto the field, seeing all the stalls and fun fare rides spread out on the field. “Hurry up, dad.”

“I thought you were nearly thirty.” Rumald hurried his step slightly, only because Neal’s pace had increased and his step was longer than Rumald’s.

“That’s two years away.” Neal admonished his father.

“I’m still right.” Rumald mumbled under his breath.

Neal slowed his pace and pulled his father along with a hand on his shoulder. “You’re getting slow, old man.”

“I’m trying to prolong the inevitable.” He told his son, allowing himself to be dragged by his son.

Falling into step with his son, they wandered by some of the rides and excused themselves through the crowd. Rumald was not sure, what exactly Neal had planned for their little jaunt around the fun fare. The further they went by the rides, which Rumald was sure would peek Neal’s interest, he was sure there was an alternative motive for visiting the fun fare.

“Are we looking for something?” Rumald asked his son.

Neal glanced at his father. “No. Just thought it would be fun.”

“Ah…” Rumald smiled knowingly. “So, we’re looking for someone.”

“I didn’t say that.” Neal tried to reject his father’s reasoning, spying over the heads of the passer-by’s.

Rumald let it go, shaking his head from side to side. “Whatever you say, son.”

They became surrounded by the stalls and Neal’s attempts to spot someone or something in the crowd became more urgent. Rumald observed his son, pondering whether he had ever behaved in such a manner. He doubted it. Keeping control over himself and what he wanted people to see, was instrumental to his business dealings. Showing people his hand or his weaknesses would be bad for business. Thinking about it, Rumald went on to think about how Regina had seen his interest in Belle. For a man who was good at hiding his feelings, a reason Milah had thrown in his face, he was still confused as to how Regina had seen his secret. He did not want to believe it was because Regina knew he so well. He did not want to think it had anything to do with Belle either.

Neal grabbed him by his arm and hauled him over to a stall. “This way.”

Baffled, Rumald went with his son, though he had no choice, and came through the crowd with Neal to find they were approaching the candle stall. Realisation dawned and Rumald looked at his son. He should have known after Ruby had told his son where to find Emma. Neal and Emma had dated in high school and had always been thick as thieves. Rumald did not know why they had broken up. He had put it up to going to different colleges for the reason for their break up.

“Really?” Rumald nudged his elbow into his son’s side.

“I like candles.” Was his son’s only response as they came to a stop in front of the stall.

“I like books.” Rumald responded sarcastically.

Neal dug his elbow into his father’s side, as Mary-Margaret spoke to them, sounding far from pleased to see them. “What a pleasure to see both of you.”

“Mrs Nolan.” Neal pleasantly greeted her. “You’re looking as lovely as ever.”

Mary-Margaret wave a hand over the display of candles. “I’m sure you both would like to help the nuns by buying a candle.”

“Sure.” Neal said perusing the selection of candles.

Abstaining from supporting the nuns, Rumald slipped his hand inside of his overcoat and removed his new sunglasses to put on, scanning the people passing by them and at the surrounding stalls. He recognised everyone walking by him. Near enough all of them were tenants or owed him money.

“Dad,” Neal said to gain his attention. “Can you lend me some cash? They only accept cash.”

Rumald flicked his overcoat to one side and shoved his hand reluctantly into his pocket to retrieve his money, giving his son the most scathing look he could. He yanked a hundred-dollar bill from his money clip and gave it to his son.

“Thank you.” His son smiled as Rumald shoved his money back into his pocket and snapped his overcoat around himself.

“I’ll just go and get you some change.” Mary-Margaret excused herself and shouted to someone else. “Henry, can you watch the stall for a minute. I’ll be right back.”

“Okay.” Came this young voice.

Rumald paid no attention to Mary-Margaret’s grandson as he slipped through the cover at the back of the stall after Mary-Margaret went through it. The young boy skipped happily to man the stall, smiling warmly at both Rumald and Neal.

“Hello, Mr Gold.” Henry greeted him pleasantly.

“Henry.” Rumald said out of a courtesy, keeping his gaze on the crowd.

Neal frowned. “Henry?”

Rumald turned his head to look at his son as he spoke to him. “Emma’s son.”

“Emma’s son?” His son questioned, staring openly at the young man behind the stall.

“Yep.” Henry smiled at Neal, while giving him an inquisitive look.

The cover at the back of stall opened and Mary-Margaret slipped through, holding out her hand to put the change into Neal’s hand. “Here you go.”

Neal held his hand open for Mary-Margaret taking his change, his gaze focused on Henry. “Thank you.”

“Can we go now?” Rumald asked, holding his overcoat closed with his hands in his pockets.

“Mrs Nolan,” Neal pocketed the money as he queried Mary-Margaret. “Is Emma here?”

“She was earlier, but she and my husband got called out. She’s my husband’s deputy.” She answered Neal, forcing a smile onto her face.

Rumald slipped his hand out of his overcoat and tugged on his son’s arm. “Come on, son.”

Reluctantly, Neal moved on from the stall and fell into step with his father, though his attention seemed to be somewhere else. Rumald did not mind, using his son’s distraction to steer his son out of the fare and back to Grannies, where they had left Neal’s car. He placed a steering hand on Neal’s back and guided his son through the crowd. Passing by some more stalls, Rumald let his gaze wander for second and missed his step, tripping into the side of his son.

“You okay?” Neal asked concerned, catching a hold of his father. 

“Yeah, I’m fine. I just…” Rumald did his best to hide the small smile from his face. “There’s a stall over here that looks interesting.” He told his son, already starting to excuse himself through the crowd to the stall.

Emerging from the traffic of people, Rumald could no longer stop himself from smiling, now that she was in front of him. “Miss French.”

Belle jumped up from being bent over, moving some things under the counter, and held her hand over her chest, whilst she smiled at Rumald. “Mr Gold!”

“Helping your father out, I see.” Rumald indicated to the stall with his hand.

Neal brushed up against his father’s side as Belle said. “He wanted to do his part to help the nuns, but he can’t be in two places at once.”

Remembering his son beside him, Rumald shifted to present his son to Belle. “This is my son, Miss French.”

“Hi.” Belle offered her hand to Neal over the counter.

“Neal.” He took her hand and smiled at her.

Belle returned his smile. “Belle.”

“When have you ever found flowers interesting, dad?” Neal questioned, giving his father a strange look.

Rumald smiled awkwardly at Belle, while wanting to slap his son around the back of his head. “I meant that stall over there.” He pointed randomly to the stall next door. “I just saw Miss French and wanted to say hello.”

Neal looked to the stall beside Belle’s. “Wooden name plates?”

“No, the one after that. The one with snacks.” Rumald gestured wildly to another stall down the line. “Why don’t you go and buy us some snacks for tonight?”

“Are you trying to get rid of me?” Neal smiled at Belle, who was holding a hand to mouth to stop her giggle from escaping.

“Neal, go.” Rumald gave his son a pointed look.

Neal held up his hands in surrender. “Geez… Not very subtle.” Before he left, Neal gave a small wave to Belle. “Pleasure to meet you, Belle.”

“And you.” Belle said through her giggle.

Rumald watched his son amble away from Belle’s stall and waited until his son was inspecting the snack store before turning his attention onto Belle. “Sorry about that.”

“There’s nothing to be sorry about.” Belle smiled.

“While I’m here,” Rumald began to say to her, parting his overcoat to remove his money clip from his pocket. “Do you have any daisies?”

“Oh, sure.” Belle spun round, looking at the various buckets around her and plucked a prewrapped bunch of daisies from a bucket.

Rumald took the offered bunch from her and queried. “Any red roses? Singles?”

“Erm…” She swept her gaze to the different buckets and let out an ‘Aha’ before picking a single rose from the bucket, and held it out to Rumald. “There you go.”

“How much?” He asked with the daisies and rose wedged into the crook of his left arm.

“Eight for the daisies… Four for the rose… Twelve dollars.” She requested from him.

Smiling, he unclipped his wad of money and counted out thirty dollars in tens, and handed them to her. “I’ll double it for you.”

“You don’t need to do that.” Belle said taking the money from him, while a blush crept up her neck to her cheeks.

“No, I don’t. But I will for you.” Rumald told her as he returned his money to his pocket.

“Thank you.” Belle shyly avoided his gaze, the blush on her cheeks deepening, whilst she put the money into the apron tied around her hips.

Rumald smiled at her when she looked up at him and faked taking a step away from stall. “Oh, Miss French.”

“Yes.” She said to him.

“This is for you.” He presented her with the rose.

Belle’s eyes widened in surprise. “Oh!”

“If you’ll have it…?” Rumald stood waiting for her to take the rose from, smiling crookedly at her as his confidence wavered.

Her hand slowly extended out to take it from him, her gaze split between the rose and Rumald’s face, and said quietly. “Thank you.”

Rumald moved on from her stall, keeping himself from glancing back at her, even though he really wanted to, and went to join his son at the snack stall. His fingers played with the stems of the daisies, protruding from the bottom of the wrapping. He was sure, he was having a heart attack with the pace of his heart, racing painfully in his chest. Taking in long, deep breaths, Rumald tried to calm himself by the time he reached his son’s side.

Neal thanked the seller as he picked up a plastic bag full of snacks and turned in time to greet his father. “That was certainly interesting.”

“What was?” Rumald unsurely questioned.

“My father buying flowers.” Neal nodded his head to the bunch of daisies, cradled in his left arm.

“I do from time to time.” He lied. “Brightens the house a bit.”

They joined the flow of the crowd with Neal added. “Also, my father giving a woman a rose.”

Rumald remained silent and poked his sunglasses further up his nose, avoiding the smile on his son’s face, as Neal said. “I take it, you like her then?”

“I like a lot of things, son.” Rumald tried to avoid answering his son’s question.

“Dad,” Neal wrapped his arm around his father’s shoulders and brought his father closer, so only he could hear his words. “There’s nothing wrong with you liking a woman.”

Slowly, Rumald let his eyes travel up to Neal’s face, knowing what his son said was true and was grateful his son was not against the idea of his father being with another woman. Seeing as the last time, Rumald was involved with a woman, it had cost Rumald his relationship with his son. Admitting his feelings out loud was not easy. Especially as anyone could hear them and could inform Gaston he was right about Rumald. Instead, Rumald showed his son half a smile and looked away, pondering over Belle and the look on her face when he gave her the rose.


	16. Chapter 16

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Belle finds out that Rumald won't be teaching her and Gaston anymore and pays Rumald a visit.

Rumald had been so glad to pull up into his driveway after a long day in Portland. He had trudged his way up and into his house, and had removed his overcoat and suit jacket upon entering the house. Throwing some things together, Rumald had prepared himself a late dinner and had collapsed in front of the television, and had selected a random channel to watch. He had been tired from his weekend spent with son. But with the added hassle of getting up early to go to Portland for the day, meeting with other dealers and checking on his properties in Portland, Rumald was exhausted.

His eyes threatened to close as he sipped from his glass of whiskey, so he told himself one drink and he would be off to bed. Rumald rested the glass on top of his right thigh, while his head lulled back into the couch. It would not surprise him, if he woke in the morning to find himself still sat on the couch, his feet resting on the coffee table, just like he had done many times before. The joys of living on your own. No one cared where you slept, apart from his back. He chuckled at the thought and welcomed the new thoughts of Belle, which sprung to mind whenever he thought about being alone.

A smile grew across his face, like it did every time he thought of Belle, picturing her taking the rose from him on Saturday. Rumald had hoped to have seen her on Sunday, when Neal had suggested they go to Grannies for breakfast. Near enough everyone came into Grannies for breakfast on a Sunday, but she did not. Even when Neal had left him alone in Grannies, giving Rumald a poor excuse of needing a newspaper, when really Rumald knew Neal had gone in search of Emma. It was the main reason Neal had suggested they go to breakfast at Grannies. Rumald was not going to object, seeing as he also had alternative motives to going to Grannies. He had hoped to see her, so he could tell her himself that he would not be teaching her anymore. For some reason, he felt guilty because he would not be teaching her anymore.

Realistically, it was just another excuse to see her and that was all Rumald could think about. While he had been viewing some paintings, owned by another dealer, Rumald had been mulling over excuses to meet up with Belle. Sending Dove to sabotage things around their house kept coming to mind, although Rumald knew he stood a fifty-fifty chance of dealing with Gaston. So, he had to think of things where only Belle would be concerned about it. If only he owned the library, he had pondered to himself over lunch. It would not bring him any revenue, the only reason for buying it would be purely personal and not business. A very bad business decision on his part, but… If it brought him closer to Belle…

His thoughts were disturbed by the front door bell ringing out into his house. He twisted his wrist to see the time was ten fifteen on his wrist. Whoever it was, they better have a good reason for coming to his house and at his unsociable hour, he thought getting up from his couch. He left his whiskey glass on the table and padded over the polished wooden floor to the front door in his socks.

Yanking open his front door, Rumald was ready to get them both barrels, but he choked on his own words at seeing Belle on the other side of the door. “Miss French…?”

“Mr Gold.” She greeted him sternly. “Can I come in, please?”

Her tone confused him. “It’s a bit late for a social call.”

“Can I come inside, please?” Belle repeated her question, her hand clasped firmly in front of herself.

“Sure.” Rumald opened the door wider, allowing her access to his house, and closed the door after she came inside.

She whipped round so fast to face him, the ends of her hair caught air as she turned, to say to him. “Why didn’t you tell me?”

His hand rested on the front door, while he was stumped for the answer to her question. “Tell you what, dearie?”

“That you weren’t going to be teaching me anymore. Regina told me earlier in Grannie’s.” Belle hands became animated, gesturing and waving in different directions. “I came by your shop earlier and you weren’t there. I drove by earlier tonight and you weren’t here. You could have at least told me yourself. Instead, I had to find out from Regina, who… who… You should have told me!”

Rumald let his hand fall from the front door, down to his side, staggered by her reaction. “It wasn’t going to be forever, dearie. I was just covering her classes for her.”

“But I’ve really enjoyed you teaching me to dance. I’ve learnt so much in the last three weeks.” Belle shared with him.

“And you’ll learn just as much from Regina.” Rumald strolled by her into the living room, needing a moment to think.

“She’s not you though.” Belle said following him into the living room.

Picking up his whiskey glass to finish the contents, Rumald peered at her over the rim of his glass, still taken aback by her reaction. One side of him really wanted to throw himself into believing Belle felt something for him. His feelings for her were not unrequited and she just needed time to come to terms with how she felt, to realise what she felt for Gaston was nothing compared to what she felt for Rumald. Experience stopped him from believing the small flicker of hope living in his heart.

Rumald left her to go to the drinks cabinet, asking her. “Would you care for a drink?”

“Vodka, if you’ve got it.” She responded quickly to his question, shifting fretfully on the spot.

“Ice?” He refilled his own glass as he selected a glass from the shelf for her.

“Yes.” Belle answered bluntly and received a look from Rumald from over his shoulder. “Please.”

He quirked an eyebrow at her response, while he poured some vodka into the glass he had selected for her, saying to her. “Please take a seat, Miss French.” And collected their glasses to deliver his own to the coffee table, telling her. “I’ll just get your ice for you.”

Leaving her alone in his living room, Rumald went into the kitchen and used the ice dispenser on the front of his fridge, chinking some ice into her glass. He padded his way back from the kitchen into the living room and handed the glass of vodka to her. She drunk from it as Rumald sat down onto the couch, collecting his drink from the coffee table at the same time, and settled back into the couch crossing his feet onto the coffee table.

“I've told you, Miss French, that I don’t teach anymore.” He reminded her of the conversation they had a couple of weeks ago.

“Yes, I remember you saying that.” Belle held her glass between her hands. “I just would've thought, seeing as you started teaching me, that it would be unprofessional to change teachers now.” Her tone was smooth and calculated, almost as though she had practised what to say to him.

“That probably would be true, but you knew I was only covering Regina. I was not planning on teaching you after she got back.” Rumald told her, thinking it would not be bad idea, then he would not need an excuse to see her.

She drank some more of her drink and said. “It’s going to disrupt everything with Regina taking over. She doesn’t know what you’ve taught me. Then she’s going to want to go over everything I’ve already done. It’s just going to waste my time and her time.”

“Any other reasons?” Rumald queried with a small smirk.

He considered how long she had spent thinking through what she was going to say to him. Probably all day as she gave him more reasons, why Regina taking over their private lessons was bad for Belle. Rumald had noted one thing, whilst she had been talking. Every one of her reasons were why it would affect Belle, not how changing teachers would affect both her and Gaston. Every reason was accompanied by an ‘I’ and ‘me’. No single use of ‘we’ or ‘us’.

“No.” Belle responded strongly.

He drank some of his whiskey and said. “I can’t just take over Regina’s class. It’s her dance studio and like I’ve told you, I don’t teach anymore.”

“I have three weeks left of lessons and my wedding is in five weeks.” She informed him, wildly waving her free hand through the air. “Surely, you could manage three more weeks? Six more lessons?”

Rumald found it fascinating, how she became more lively the more she became annoyed. He was tempted to further annoy her, wanting to see her become the vixen again and to see how lively she would become. Holding himself back from his temptation, he sipped some of his whiskey to buy some time to think over her proposition. If he had not been so closed off to teaching again, Rumald probably would have made the suggestion to Regina himself, securing him his fixed time with Belle and, reluctantly, Gaston.

“Three weeks?” He queried just to buy him some more time to ponder his other options.

“Yes, three weeks.” The tension in her face eased into sadness. “I’m starting to think you haven’t enjoyed teaching me, these last few weeks, we’ve spent together.”

“I have.” Rumald told her earnestly, though it did nothing to remove the sadness from her face.

Sitting up and dropping his feet from the table, Rumald placed his glass onto the table and hunched forward, leaning onto his knees with his elbows, as he shared with her. “Look, I promised myself a long time ago, that I would never teach or dance ever again. I was only repaying a favour to Regina. But yes, I have enjoyed our time together.”

“I still don’t understand, why you’re refusing to teach or dance when you’re good at it.” Belle said to him, leaning forward to put her empty glass onto the coffee table.

Rumald dropped his gaze to his ring on his right hand, twisting it back and forth on his finger, as he said. “I was in love with my dance partner at the time. She became my life and I sacrificed everything for her.” He paused, reluctant to tell her. “Including my son.” He took a breath and pushed on. “When it ended, I vowed to never dance or teach ever again.”

Looking up from his ring to Belle, he saw the creases on her forehead as she said. “But she’s no longer in the picture?”

“No.” He muttered with a shake of his head.

“And you’ve got your son back in your life?” She asked him, while the creases on her forehead eased.

“Yes.” He answered, still playing with his ring.

“Then what’s the harm in three weeks, teaching me?” Belle probed him.

Lifting his left hand up to rub at something on chin, Rumald regarded her across the room in the armchair, finding he had underestimated her. She was not just an angel and a vixen at times. She was a minx as well. Even with her temper, Belle had schemed against him, planning exactly what she was going to say to him and prodded him in the right places to get information out of him. The yearning he felt in his heart for her, increased at his realisation. If he was not such a gentleman towards her and had a strong sense of self control, Rumald would have threw her over his shoulder and taken her upstairs.

Slowly he let out a breath, taming his inner beast, and answered her. “Can I think about it?”

“Oh…” She was dazed for a second and then said with a beaming smile. “Yeah, course.”

Rumald collected his glass from the table and sipped from it, showing her a smile in return. It was not normal for him to be out foxed by someone. He was always a couple of steps ahead of everyone, personal and business. When Milah had come clean about her affair, Rumald had known for months, letting it continue so he could collect together as much evidence as he could, ready for fate to run its course. Cora had thrown him a curve ball, but he had seen the signs and had tried his best to change her mind, to please her, right up until the end. Belle… She was certainly something else. He had not been expecting this from her and had not anticipated her to have so much drive behind herself.

“Would you care for another drink?” Rumald asked standing up from the couch.

“I better not. It’s getting late.” She told him, pushing her up from the armchair.

He put his glass down on the table and followed closely behind her to the front door. “Yes, you don’t want Gaston to worry.”

Her hand was on the door handle as she twisted to say. “No, I wouldn’t want that.”

A piece of her hair hung down over her face, blocking his view of her beauty. Without thinking about it, Rumald reached out to lightly trail his finger across her forehead, drawing back the piece of hair to hook behind her ear. He followed the path of his fingers with his eyes, tracing his fingers around to the back of her ear and down the soft, sensitive skin of her neck. His eyes snapped to her lips, watching as she bit into her lower lip. Taking a step forward, Rumald’s chest heaved heavily, feeling breathless in her presence.

“I better go.” She said remaining where she stood.

“It’s pretty late.” Rumald reiterated what she had said moments ago.

Belle closed her eyes and then turned her face away from him to say. “I’ve got to go home.”

Opening the door, Belle took one more look at Rumald and exited his house, closing the door firmly behind herself. He smirked observing her disappearing down the porch steps through the coloured glass of his front door. Her fleeting form rushed down the path of his house to what he assumed was her car, waiting for her by the kerb.


	17. Chapter 17

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Rumald talks to Regina about taking over teaching Belle.

There was no need to think about his decision. Rumald had already decided what he was going to do before she had even left his house last night. It was the excuse he needed to be able to see her without raising any eyebrows at his interest in her. If he started visiting the library, word would spread and idle gossip would rush like wildfire around Storybrooke. He had already heard a few whispers that morning, with people speculating on why Mr Gold had given Miss French a rose on Saturday at the fair. There were even murmurs of Miss French visiting Mr Gold late at night at his own home. The curtain twitches were hard at work with that little gem. They were easily dismissed rumours, but Rumald enjoyed the idea of Gaston hearing them. Rumald had been expecting a visit from Gaston that morning, demanding to know the truth behind the rumours.

Rumald checked his watch and saw it was nearly half past four in the afternoon. Grabbing his overcoat from the coat stand, he put it on as he made his way out of the shop, locking doors as he went, and left through the front door of the shop. He wanted to chat with Regina before the class started, wanting to smooth things out with his old student. It was one thing for Belle to request he teach her. It was another to take over Regina’s class.

Reaching for the dance studio door, Rumald pulled open the door and entered the reception area. Mal was sat at the reception desk, tapping unmercifully at the keyboard of her computer, snapping her gaze between the computer screen and something on her desk. Rumald came up to the desk, glancing into either dance studio, scanning for Regina. He nearly made eye contact with Zelena, who was in the dance studio to his right. Giving her the cold shoulder, Rumald angled himself so he could not see her and approached Mal’s desk.

“Afternoon, Mal.” Rumald greeted her. “Regina about?”

Mal pointed to the dance studio above them on her right. “She’s with a couple in studio C.”

“Thank you.” He said with a smile and moved around her desk, climbing the stairs to the studio in question.

Regina looked to the doorway as he entered and smiled at the sight of him. There was a couple waltzing the room, both looking tired and miserable as they danced. He took her smile as invite to come into the room and joined her, where she stood by the glass wall.

“Come on.” Regina raised her voice at the couple, gaining their attention. “You’ve only got two more weeks.”

“Is this them?” Rumald questioned, scrunching his brow down over his eyes.

Regina stepped closer to him. “I don’t know what’s gone on, while I was on vacation, but they’re terrible now.”

“They look like they need a night off.” Rumald commented as the couple waltz along the opposite wall.

“I gave them the weekend off.” Regina said through gritted teeth.

Rumald clasped his hands behind his back. “Well, I can tell you now, they’re not going to improve in two weeks.”

Regina smiled her wicked smile at him. “Thank you, Rumald, for telling me the obvious.”

“Always happy to help, dearie.” He smirked half a smile at her.

“I don’t know what I’m going to do.” Regina hushed her voice, so only Rumald could hear her. “They’re my entry for the Viennese Waltz and I don’t have any other couples, who free to do it.”

Rumald shrugged his shoulders at her. “Shame.”

“I wouldn’t be so bothered, if my mother’s dance school weren’t competing as well.” Regina told him shaking her head and let out an exasperated breath.

“I’ve told you before.” Rumald turned to face her. “Stop comparing yourself to your mother. You are a very capable dancer and you’re really good at teaching.”

Regina eyed him. “What are you after?”

Rumald mocked that he was hurt, placing a hand on his chest with a shocked look on his face. “Me? After something? How dare you!”

“Out with it.” She commanded, giving him a smile.

“It’s not what I want, dearie.” He shifted his feet to stand sideways to her, returning to watching the hopeless couple dance around the room. “Miss French has demanded it.”

“Oh, that.” Regina chuckled. “I thought you were here about something else.”

Rumald twisted to see Regina beside him. “Excuse me?”

Regina smiled knowingly at him. “I told her, I would be fine with it, as long as she could convince you herself.” She moved her gaze back to the couple as they passed by in front of them. “Seems she’s very persuasive.”

Unamused, Rumald straightened himself. “This doesn’t mean, I’ll come back to teach dance.”

“Didn’t even cross my mind.” She told him before moving closer to him, placing her hand on his shoulder. “But if it’s a chance for you to spend more time with her, then I’m not going to stand in the way of that. You deserve to be happy, Rumald.”

“Yes, well… She still has a fiancé.” He said trying to hide his emotions from her, not wanting her to see how touch he was by her words.

“I’m sure, you won’t let some fiancé stand in your way. I have every faith in you winning her over.” Regina smiled her wicked smile at him again.

“We’ll see.” Rumald showed her half a smile.

It uneased him to hear Regina rooting for him. Seeing as Rumald was the main reason her parents had separated, he would have been more comfortable with her hating him and doing everything in her power to stop him from being happy. Her father had been a weak man, just like so many had been, when it came to Cora. Regina’s father bent over backwards for Cora, giving into all her demands and putting up with a lot more than Rumald ever would have. During their affair, Cora had divorced Henry, Regina’s father, and moved in with Rumald, staying a year with him until she found her new and younger victim.

Regina’s hand slipped around Rumald’s elbow as she told him. “I can tell you this, she was not happy at all that I would be teaching her. Thought for a second, she was going to throw her food over me. She was adamant about you teaching her.”

“Really?” He probed, inclining his head to see Regina beside him.

“Oh, yeah.” Regina leant into him. “Passion like that, doesn’t come from not feeling anything. She must really like you as well.”

“I suspect there’s something.” Rumald shared with her, pulling half his lips back into a smile.

“Ow…!!!” The woman screamed as her dance partner stepped on her toes, disturbing them from their conversation.

Regina rolled her eyes and hurried over to the couple, as the man blamed the woman for not moving in time with him. Deciding that was his time to exit, Rumald left the room and descended the stairs to climb the opposite stairs, removing his overcoat as he entered the room. He glanced to the clock on the wall and saw it was five o’clock dead on. Folding his overcoat, Rumald placed it on the stool by the sound system and stripped himself of his suit jacket to lay over his overcoat. He rolled his shoulders and worked his arms, feeling a swell of nervous in the pit of his stomach.

“You came!” Belle cheered from the doorway to the dance studio.

He pivoted round to face her. “Indeed.”

She came further into the room, aimlessly dropping her bag on the floor by the wall, and stopped about midway across the room to him. “Gaston’s running a little late, but he said he’ll be here.”

“Not a problem, Miss French.” Rumald gave her a reassuring smile. “I’m sure Mr Phipps won’t mind, if we start without him.”

“Which dance are we doing tonight?” She asked expectantly.

“Well… That’s where I’m a little indecisive.” He approached her and only stopped when there was less than a step between them. “Seeing as you’re learning these dances for your wedding, I’m not sure how in depth you want to go. Whether you want to focus on certain dances or not.”

Belle drew her lip into her mouth and released it, denying him the distraction of her biting her lip, and inquired. “What other dances are there?”

“There’s the Viennese Waltz, which you would pick up very easily as it’s only the Waltz at a quicker temp.” Rumald began to list off the dances she had yet to learn. “The Cha-Cha, which is a bit of a flirty dance. Lots of hip movement.” He demonstrated by swinging his hips from side to side and smiled when her eyes casted down to watch his hips. “The Rumba, which… seeing as this is for your wedding, might be a bit complex to learn in time. Plus, it’s probably the most passionate and romantic dance of all the ballroom dances.”

“Really?” She questioned, not sounding sure.

“Oh, yeah.” He nodded his head enthusiastically at her.

“I thought it was the Tango.” Belle said to him, a look of doubt on her face.

Rumald reached for her hand and stepped back to spin her towards him, catching her so her back pressed hard against his chest. “The Rumba to some is the dance of love.” He pressed his hands to her sides, tentatively touching the edges of her breasts. “It’s vertical sex.” He whispered in her ear, sliding his hands down her sides to midway on her thighs, turning his face covertly into the nape of her neck to smell her. “You have to imagine that you’re making love to the person your dancing with.” Slowly he dragged his fingertips up her sides, saying every word close to her skin, while he rested his forehead against the side of her head.

“You need them like the air to breath.” His left hand found her left hand down at her side, whilst his right slipped behind her to push her away from him and slingshot her back to him with their joined hands, exchanging hands to catch her against his chest. “You have to make everyone in the room, believe you’re desperately in love with your dance partner.”

Belle breathed heavily in his arms, her chest heaving against his as she clutched at his shoulder, digging her fingers into his shoulder. “I see…”

He let go of her and stepped away from her, smiling at the full blown blush colouring her cheeks and neck, saying to her. “Hence why, I’m not sure you need to know it for your wedding.”

“I…” Belle opened her mouth to speak, but was speechless.

“The Tango… is more of a playful courtship.” Rumald stepped back into her space. “It’s passionate, yes, but it’s not romantic.” He explained reaching up between them, to return a piece of hair behind her ear like he had done the other night.

“Sorry, I’m late.” Gaston said entering the room, dumping a large bag near Belle’s bag. “Had some trouble with one of the kids on the team.”

Rumald pulled his lips back into half a smile and walked away from Belle to the sound system, saying. “No problem, Mr Phipps.”

“What? What are you doing here?” Gaston stumbled a step.

“Teaching…?” Rumald suggested, feigning his ignorance at Gaston’s questions.

Gaston turned his attention to Belle, who had wandered in the opposite direction to Rumald, her back to both of them. “I thought you said, Regina was teaching us now.”

“She was, but there’s been a change of plan.” Rumald supplied an answer for Belle, glimpsing in her direction for a second.

“What change of plan?” Gaston inquired further, crossing the room to stand in front of Rumald.

Rumald shrugged his shoulders at the younger man. “Regina’s got a couple, who are going to be competing soon and she needs to spend more time with them. I’m free in the evenings, so I’m more than happy to carry on teaching you both.”

“Right…” Gaston muttered, his brow showing he was still trying to decipher the truth behind Rumald’s words.

“We were just discussing, which dance to teach you both next.” Rumald pulled an awkward smile at Gaston.

“Were you…?” Gaston turned his head to look at Belle.

Clapping his hands together, shocking Gaston into looking back to him, Rumald said. “So, we could move onto the Viennese Waltz, which is a quicker tempo of the Waltz. There’s the Cha-Cha, Rumba, Tango, Paso Doble, the Jive, the Samba.”

“I have no clue, what you’re talking about.” Gaston appeared to be dizzy with the different dances Rumald had been listing off.

“If I can make a suggestion,” Rumald smiled at Gaston. “Why don’t we just concentrate on the dances you’re now familiar with and maybe learn some different turns and such to those dances.”

“Sounds good to me.” Gaston turned his attention to Belle. “What do you think, Belle?”

“That’ll be fine.” She agreed finally turning round to face them.

Rumald was slightly sad to see the blush from her cheeks had gone. Watching her walk over to them, he wanted to spin her back into his arms and paint her cheeks a deeper crimson. He noted she avoided meeting his gaze, picking a spot over his shoulder, when she glanced between Gaston and Rumald.

“Shall we do the Foxtrot?” Belle suggested, bracing a dim smile at Gaston.

“Sure.” Gaston agreed with her and held his hand out for her to place her hand in his.

Strolling away from them, Rumald smiled evilly to himself as he headed to the sound system to put on the Foxtrot playlist. He took up position against the wall, observing their steps together, whilst they danced around the room. Rumald thought, he should probably be showing them some different turns and steps, but wanted to bask in his memory. She enjoyed it as much as he had, he was sure of it. Too bad that Gaston had joined them. Rumald quite liked the idea of leading her through a Tango. She would love it, he decided, smiling when he caught Belle’s eye whilst she danced with Gaston.


	18. Chapter 18

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Rumald is running late and arrives to class to find Belle annoyed, and tries to cheer her up.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Song:  
> Blue – Breathe Easy

Washing his hands vigorously under the tap, Rumald tried his best to remove the paint he had used to stain a cabinet from his hands. He hated making a mess and hated to get himself dirty even more. Rumald had been so engrossed in painting the cabinet, he had finished repairing the day before, that he had forgotten the time. Looking up randomly from a cabinet draw, Rumald had seen it was a little after five and jumped into action, running around his backroom. His paint brushes were sat soaking in cleaning solution, tins of paint were sealed and the back door was locked. He twisted the tap to stop the flow of water and hastily dried his hands, throwing the towel to a workbench as he strode by on his way to the front of the shop.

He exited the shop locking the door behind him and set off at a fast pace to the dance studio. As he was walking, Rumald noticed with annoyance that he had forgotten to collect his suit jacket and overcoat. He could feel the chill of the early evening trying to seep through his dress shirt. Rumald refused to acknowledge it and increased his speed, jogging diagonally across the intersection.

When he reached for the dance studio door, two people were coming out from the studio and held the door for him. He thanked them with a brief smile, ducking by them to enter the warmth of the studio. Glancing over his shoulder, Rumald recognised them from Tuesday, having a private session with Regina. Neither of them looked very happy. Rumald would even consider calling them heartbroken.

“Rumald,” Regina called his name, making him turn his head forward. “Not like you to be late.”

“Don’t.” Was his only response as he passed by Mal and her at the reception desk, jumping up the stairs two steps at a time.

Rumald entered the room to find Belle sat on the stool by the sound system. “I’m sorry I’m late. I didn’t realise the time.”

“I appreciate punctuality, Mr Gold.” Belle hopped off the stool, repeating his own words from when they had met.

His pace slowed at hearing the tone of her voice. Belle sounded angry and if looks could kill, he was sure, he would have been flat on his back from the glare she was giving him. Rumald doubted it was because of him. He was only twenty minutes late. Surely that would not have been enough to anger her to the point, where she wanted to draw blood from him.

He dared to take another step, eyeing her cautiously. “You okay?”

“Yes, I’m fine.” She barked at him, her arms folded in front of her chest.

“I'm sorry for being late.” Rumald restated his apology to her, in case she took his tone to be flippant.

“It’s not you.” Belle said looking down at the toes of her shoes.

Hearing he was not the cause, he moved closer to her, saying. “Anything I can do to help?”

“No.” She answered shortly.

“O…kay.” He stopped a few steps away from her, giving her space. “Is Mr Phipps running late as well?”

Belle raised her gaze from the floor to look at him, her eyes were coldest he had seen them. “He won’t be joining us.”

“Right, so… What dance would you like to work on tonight? More Foxtrot? Quickstep? Waltz?” Rumald questioned edging round the space he had given her to the sound system.

Standing by the sound system, he twisted to see her in the middle of the studio, still hugging her arms tightly around herself. It unnerved him to see her so tense. Belle was normally so relaxed and easy going. Seeing her this way, Rumald wanted to storm through Storybrooke until he found out what and who had upset her so much. He waited a couple seconds, giving her chance to decide, but realised she had gotten lost in her own thoughts.

“Miss French,” Rumald softly called to her. “Which dance?”

She pivoted to face him and said. “Waltz.”

He nodded his head at her choice and selected the Waltz playlist on the sound system. The music began to filter out from the speakers in the walls as Rumald ambled over towards her and stopped a few feet from her. Normally, Rumald would have closed the distance between them, intruding into her personal space, fore filling his need to get close to her. Not familiar with how best to handle her, he let her be the one to approach him and held his hand open to her. He saw her take in a deep breath, obvious from her chest heaving in and out and her shoulders going up and down. Rumald really wanted to sweep her up into his arms, questioning her about her day, who had upset her, what did he need to do to make it better.

A good minute went by before Belle unfolded her arms and took the couple of steps to Rumald, sliding her hand into his offered hand. He showed her a smile as she placed her hand on his shoulder and he led them into the Waltz. Frowning at her avoiding his eyes, Rumald could feel she was not with him, though she followed his lead anyway. They completed a circuit of the room, waltzing together with ease. However, Rumald was growing more and more concerned with her.

They began another loop of the room and Rumald decided to ask her what was distracting her, when she stepped forward instead of backwards, putting all of her weight down onto the toes of his right foot.

“Ow!” Rumald cried out, yanking his foot out from underneath her foot.

“Oh, God!” Belle stumbled and stared down at his right foot. “I’m so sorry!”

He waved his hand at her. “It’s okay.”

“Are you okay?” She asked catching his hand that he waved it at her, coming closer to him, while still looking down at his foot.

“It’s not the first time and I doubt, it’ll be the last time that someone stands on my foot.” Rumald commented to her, hunched over while he flexed his toes in his right shoe, trying to work the pain out of his foot.

Belle pleaded with him. “I am so sorry, Mr Gold. I really didn’t mean to step on your foot.” She waggled her hand around in the air. “God, I’m so sorry!”

“It’s okay.” He further urged her, squeezing her hand holding his hand.

She closed her eyes and slightly shook her head at herself, clutching heavily onto Rumald’s hand. Straightening his back with the pain easing from his foot, Rumald pressed his lips into a thin line, mentally drawing up a list of all the people that could have upset her. Top of the list, as always, was Gaston, then her father and then all the residents of Storybrooke.

“What’s wrong?” He inquired.

Belle opened her eyes and looked at him to say. “Gaston and I have been fighting again.”

“It doesn’t normally bother you.” Rumald said to her, rubbing his thumb over the backs of her fingers.

“It was big fight.” She told him with her eyes appearing watery.

Rumald was not sure, whether he should be pleased or not, as he saw the sadness in her eyes. One thing he had never taken into account was if she was actually happy with Gaston. It was obvious she was more invested in their relationship than Gaston was, given the fact he was cheating on her. But… Did he have a right to take her away from something that made her happy? Because, after all, Rumald wanted her to be happy. So, did he have the right to take her away from that just because he wanted her?

While he mentally wavered, Rumald reached to her face with his free hand and rubbed his thumb under her eyes, wiping the unshed tears away, saying. “It’ll be okay.”

“I don’t see how it can be.” Belle told him with a sniffle. “Gaston isn’t happy that you’re teaching us again. We argued on the way home on Tuesday and it carried on until yesterday evening, when he walked out of the house.”

“If it’s causing issues…” He started to say, trying not to smirk.

She let go of his hand and wiped angrily at her face, telling him. “I will not have him, telling me what to do.” Her back straightened. “No one tells me what to do! I can make my own decisions!”

Rumald’s lips pulled into half a smile, loving how self-assured she was. “That you can.”

“I want to learn dance for me!” Belle told him, vehemently.

Rumald eyed her as he asked. “Can I ask you something?”

“Sure.” She said to him in a flippant tone.

“From what I’ve seen of the two of you together, but…” He was not sure about asking her this question, but felt it was right time to plant a seed in her head. “Why are you together?”

“Excuse me?” Her eyes blew wide open at his question.

Rumald held his hands up in surrender to her. “I only ask, because to me, it seems you’re more invested in this relationship than he is. Seeing as you also wanted to do these classes together and he’s been finding excuses not to come, kind of says a lot to me.”

“He loves me and that’s what counts.” Belle told him, though Rumald could tell from her tone, she was thinking about what he had said to her.

He lowered his hands down, saying. “As long as that’s enough for you.”

Her brow scrunched and un-scrunched at him, inwardly debating with herself, over what Rumald had said to her. He should not be pleased with himself, he knew this. Though, Rumald did like the fact they had been arguing about him and, from the sounds of it, had a pretty extensive fight about him.

He allowed himself to think it meant something. It would have been so easy for Belle to just give into his demand. It really wouldn’t have made a difference to their lessons, if Regina was to teach them over him. Rumald knew this even when he agreed to come back and teach. The fact Belle was pushing, so hard, for him to teach Gaston and her, said everything to Rumald. He meant something to her. It was the only plausible reason. Plus, the fact, she did not shy away from his touch or had told him off, for the intimate way he had danced with her on Tuesday, talked to his heart.

Rumald smiled at her and pointed his finger at her. “Let’s have a bit of fun.”

“Okay.” She said unsure, but was interested as her eyes followed him to the sound system.

He stopped the Waltz playlist and scrolled through the songs stored in the sound system. Finding the song, he was looking for, Rumald tapped it to play and strolled back over to Belle with his hand offered out to her as the piano intro came through the speakers. She placed her hand in his and laid her hand on his shoulder as he wrapped his arm around her.

“We’re going to Viennese Waltz.” He told her. “It’s much quicker than the Waltz.”

Belle nodded her head as Rumald led them into the waltz, giving him a very unsure look. Her lips pressed together in concentration, while her brow hunched down over her eyes, trying to keep pace with Rumald. Rumald gave her a reassuring smile. His smile was enough to ease her brow, but not enough for her to completely relax. At the start of the chorus, Rumald twirled her and caught her, carrying on their waltz as Belle fought the smile that threatened to take her lips. Keeping her on her toes, he alternated their rotation and waltz back around the room from where they had come from.

When the chorus came again, changing the tempo of the song, Rumald spun her a few times and caught her into his arms. Belle giggled and clutched at his shoulder, meeting his gaze. He knew he was smiling like the cat who got the cream, but he did not care. This was all for her. If he could brighten her mood, he would.

The song lulled as the singer became more prominent, singing his solo. Rumald grinned and repositioned his hand on her back. He knew the song from the different versions, he had heard over the years at different dance competitions or from when he had been practising.

“Ready?” He asked, still grinning at her.

“For what?” Belle asked him, raising an eyebrow at him.

“This.” Rumald said to her as the song gained its pace again.

Placing his hands at her waist and easily lifted her as he turned. She let out a small little cry before she giggled down at him, bracing herself on his shoulders. After a few turns, Rumald lowered her down, brushing their bodies together. Her smile was infectious and they both smiled stupidly at each other, falling back into their waltz together. He twirled her again, enjoying the smile and laughter he was bringing out of her.

The song came to an end and Rumald slowed their pace to a stop. They were both breathless, chests heaving. Rumald let go of her stepping back from her and clapped his hands at her, causing her to give him a questioning look.

“For your first Viennese Waltz, you were really good.” Rumald congratulated her and then motioned to his foot. “And you missed my foot!”

She laughed, while apologising to him again. “I’m so sorry, Mr Gold.”

Rumald shook his head at her and his smile away, telling her. “Don’t apologise to me. I don’t deserve it.” He gestured with his hand to her. “If you have something on your mind, though, you can always come and talk to me. My door is always open to you and you do have my personal number.”

“Thank you.” Belle dipped her gaze down to the floor and then back up to his eyes. “I do appreciate that.”

“Look,” He retook his step, closing the space between them. “Why don’t we call it quits for tonight?”

She snapped her head to look at the clock and said to him. “But, we have another half an hour.”

“I know,” Rumald tried to reassure her with a smile. “I just think you could do with going home and relaxing. Draw yourself a hot bath. Light some candles, like you girlies do.” He flittered his fingers at her. “Put on some bitchy music about men and just relax.”

“I was meeting Ruby after class…” Belle shared with him, mulling over the options.

“Better yet. Go and bitch to Ruby about men over a bottle of wine.” He said to her.

“A bottle?” She questioned, huffing out a chuckle.

Rumald reached into his pocket and pulled out his money clip, slipped a hundred-dollar bill from the clip and handed it to her. “Here. Make a night of it.”

“I couldn’t possibly.” Belle held up her hand at the money, refusing to take it from him.

“My treat.” He held the money out of her, urging her to take it.

She looked between him and the money in his hand, slowly reaching her hand out to take it from him. “Why are you so nice to me?”

After she had taken the money from him, Rumald retracted his hand away from her and clasped his hands behind his back, rocking forward and backwards on the balls of his feet, telling her. “I have to do one good deed for the year. Gives the gossip mill something to talk about.”

“Thank you.” Belle said to him and stepped forward to lean into him, so she could tiptoe up slightly to kiss his cheek.

Rumald closed his eyes to her kiss and opened them again when he sensed she was backing away from him. Continuing his smile for her, he watched her pocket the money into the back of her jeans, whilst she crossed the room to where she left her things by the door. When she had collected her things from the floor, Belle looked back at him and smiled before going through the door. His heart ached as she slowly disappeared from sight. He raised his right hand to his face and touched where she had kissed him, dying to feel her lips on his own. Nothing though, could remove the smile from his face, not the small sadness he felt knowing he would have to wait until Tuesday next week to see her.


	19. Chapter 19

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Regina has a proposition for Rumald.

It was late evening and Rumald was elbow deep in his ledgers, updating figures onto his laptop. A few times that evening, he had wondered why he did not just pay accountant to do his books, saving him time from doing them himself. Rumald knew why he did not. Trust was not something he gave out so easily, especially to someone who would have power over all of his accounts and properties. The less people involved the better. Hence why, it was only Rumald and Dove at the shop and involved in his business dealings.

With a groan, Rumald leant forward onto his workbench, perching his elbow onto top of one of the ledgers, and rubbed the creases away from his forehead. It was not a difficult task as Rumald kept his books very up to date. Rumald was just ready for his weekend to start and wanted to go home, relax in front of the television with some Chinese and fall asleep after several glasses of whiskey. Angling his head to look through the window, above the shelving to his left, Rumald could see it was pitch black outside. Just to verify, Rumald twisted his wrist and checked the time to see it was already nine o’clock. He let out another groan, realising he had been sat there for four hours, even though he had told himself to leave at seven.

“God dammit.” He muttered to himself.

Dropping his hand from his forehead down onto the workbench, Rumald found his place in the ledger and returned his finger to the page. Promising himself one more page, Rumald entered the numbers as quick as he could, thinking only of the noodles he was going to get on the way home. He had not had much chance to get some food at lunch as he had been collecting rent.

Rumald was supposed to collect rent from Gaston, but had switch from doing the east side of Storybrooke with Dove, to do his west side collection. He had found it quite humorous, when his tenants had opened their door to see Rumald instead of Dove. It had been a while since they switch routes. It was just easier for Rumald to do the east side as he lived on that side of town. Dove lived in the middle, so it made no difference for him. The reason though, Rumald had decided to switch, was to hopefully give Belle a break from Gaston’s moaning for the weekend. Seeing how upset she was last night and the fact she had shed tears in front of him, Rumald did not want to antagonise the situation further for her. Not yet, anyway.

As he entered the last figure into his laptop, Rumald closed the ledger he was reading from and then saved the document on his laptop. He shut down his laptop and left it on his workbench, while he got up from his stool and collected his suit jacket from the coat stand to put on. With his suit jacket halfway up his arms, Rumald grabbed his overcoat and reached for the back door to open it. The front of the shop was already locked, ready for his escape, and Rumald exited his shop closing the door behind him to lock it. Making his way to the alleyway, where his car was parked, Rumald fed his arms into his overcoat and shrugged it up and onto his shoulders, pulling his coat closed in front of him.

Standing at his driver’s door, Rumald grabbed the handle of his door and was about to open his door, when he heard someone calling his name and tapping on the front door of his shop. “Gold!”

If he could have gotten away with driving away, he would have, but seeing as the Cadillac was not inconspicuous he doubted he would get away with it. Rumald huffed out a breath and trudged to the corner of his shop, while whoever it was called his name out again and banged on the front door of his shop.

Poking his head around the corner of the shop, he raised his eyebrows seeing Regina at his door. “Regina?”

“Gold!” She called out, jumping back from the door with fright.

“I hope you’re not damaging my shop door with all that banging.” He told her, rounding the corner of his shop to greet her.

Regina held a hand to her chest. “I was hoping to catch you before you went home.” She pointed at his front door. “You do realise, you’ve left the light on, in the back of your shop?”

“What did you want?” He asked, not caring about the light.

“I need your help.” She gave him a smile as she said it.

“With… what?” Rumald hated it when people came to him looking for help, especially when he could tell it was not money she wanted.

Regina stepped closer to him. “You know, the couple, that I was helping the other day?”

“Yes…” He slightly pressed his brow down over his eyes, trying to read what favour she wanted from him.

“Well, they’ve pulled out and I don’t have anyone else, who can fill in for them.” Regina filled him in on the details of her problem.

Rumald’s brow pressed heavily down over his eyes. “You want me to cover your lessons?”

“No, I want you to take their place.” Regina waved her hand as she added. “With Miss French.”

“What?” He blurted at her.

“I saw you two doing the Viennese Waltz. Needs a bit of a polishing, but you two were so in sync with one another as you danced.” Regina said to him.

Rumald shook his head, sure he was hearing things. “You want me and Miss French to compete? She’s not anywhere near ready for competition dancing and I haven’t competed for over a decade.”

Regina grabbed his arm by his elbow, trying to persuade him. “Okay, I admit it, what I saw was very raw, but you two definitely have something.” She edged closer to him. “You know, as well as I do, she would be ideal the dance partner for you. You two are perfect together. You move as one and she’s only been learning dance for four weeks.”

“Hence why, this is a terrible idea.” He could not believe his ears.

“Rumald,” She looked him dead in the eye. “It’s only the Waltz. If we can talk Miss French into doing it, I’m sure with a full week of training, she would be good enough.”

He hooked his thumb at himself, saying. “What about me? What if I don’t want to do this?”

“A chance to spend more time with Miss French? I doubt you’d miss that opportunity.” Regina told him, smirking at him knowingly.

“This wouldn’t be fair to her.” He said to Regina, thinking of the agro Belle would get at home for doing the competition with him.

“She’s a big girl.” Regina shrugged one shoulder at Rumald. “I’m sure, she can make her own decisions.”

Rumald raised his right hand to his face and rubbed at his face, wishing he had gone home earlier instead of staying to do the books. “Regina, I really don’t want to do it.”

“Not even for a chance to stick it to my mother?” She asked trying to press his button.

“Really, dearie?” He dropped his hand from his face and eyed her.

Regina shrugged both her shoulders at him this time, telling him. “I’m sure the news of Rumald Gold, competing with a new partner, would perk her interest.” A weary smile tugged the corners of her lips. “She does ask after you from time to time.”

“Hopefully, you tell her, where she can stick her concern.” Rumald told her, while his upper lip unconsciously turned up into a snarl.

“Wouldn’t that be a good reason?” She asked him.

Rumald shook his head at her. “No.” He tugged his overcoat straight, stopping the hatred from crawling up his back. “I’ve put your mother behind me now. She isn’t worth my time and she definitely is not worth the precious time of Miss French’s.”

Regina begged him. “Please, Rumald!” She reached out for his arm again and raised his arm up to grab hold of his left hand in her free hand. “It would really help me and the dance studio out. All I need is for you to compete. I don’t even need you to win.” Regina’s eyes flashed when a thought occurred to her. “Look at it this way, the competition is in Boston. I’ll pay for you and Miss French to spend Friday and Saturday there, then you can come back on Sunday. A whole weekend for the two of you.”

She squeezed his hand. “No interruptions. Just the two of you.”

His eyebrows rose up his forehead at her suggestion. “The whole weekend?”

“Just the two of you.” She repeated with a devilish smile.

“She won’t have a dress or anything.” Rumald thought out loud.

“I’m sure we can sort something out.” Regina easily thwarted his thought.

“This all depends whether she’s okay with it.” He told Regina, wagging his finger at her.

Regina launched herself at him, wrapping her arms around his neck and hugged him tightly, saying loudly into his ear. “Thank you, thank you, thank you!!!”

Rumald fought her off and held a hand to his ear when she had retracted herself from him. “See what she says first. I’m not saying yes yet.”

“I’ll go find her now.” Regina hurried away from him, twisting to see him behind her. “Thank you, Rumald.”

“Don’t thank me yet, dearie.” He mumbled turning away from her and headed to his car, knowing he was going to regret this decision.


	20. Chapter 20

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Belle calls Rumald, wanting some help with making her decision.

There was somewhat of a chill in the air, while Rumald sat on his patio drinking a hot cup of tea, reading the Storybrooke Daily Mirror. He had a productive morning around his house. Rumald had hoovered and dusted the house, top to bottom. He had even pulled out the hose to wash the Cadillac and valeted the inside of his car. Now with only a few things to wash up in the kitchen, Rumald was taking a break on his patio, resting his feet onto one of the other metal patio chairs. He remarked to himself, how nice it was not to receive any phone calls from anyone that morning. Normally, there would have been a few by now: complaints and begging phone calls.

Rumald turned the page in the newspaper and found himself at the classifieds. Folding the paper back on itself and in half, he spent some time reading through each classified, trying to spot a bargain or an item worth procuring. He could not help himself, when he got the classified ads. It was how he had started his business, buying and selling random junk, growing his business to more lucrative items.

His phone in his pocket shrilled and vibrated against his thigh. Rumald placed his folded newspaper down onto his lap and reached into his pocket to retrieve his phone. Briefly, he looked at the caller ID and saw it was an unknown number. Curiously raising his eyebrow, Rumald slid his thumb across the screen and answered it, and held it up to his ear as he lifted his newspaper up from his lap to read it again.

“Gold.” He greeted bluntly.

“Mr Gold, it’s Belle… I mean, it’s Miss French.” She told him, with a hushed ‘shit’ said in the pause.

His eyebrows shrugged briefly up his forehead. “Miss French, what can I do for you?”

“I was hoping I could talk to you.” Belle answered his question and then added. “I went by the shop, but Dove said Saturday was your day off.”

A twinge of a smile touched the corners of his mouth as he said. “Even the town monster has to have a day off, Miss French.”

Rumald could hear in her tone, she had found no amusement in his comment, as she said. “Regina came and spoke to me last night in the Rabbit Hole. Something about doing a dance competition next week.”

“Yes, she mentioned it to me last night.” He informed her, tossing his newspaper onto the table.

“There’s going to be professional dancers there.” Belle stated to him. “I’ve only been dancing a month. I’m not ready for a dance competition with professionals.”

“Miss French, it’s solely your decision. If you don’t want to do it, then just tell Regina the answer is no.” Rumald laid it out for her, half wanting her to agree, while the other half of him screamed for her to back out of it.

“I’m really not sure what I want to do it.” She revealed to him.

An idea came to Rumald and he suggested to her. “If it helps, I’m at home all day, so if you want to come over we can discuss it.”

“I’m not sure…” She was hesitant. “That would be a good idea. Gaston’s just about talking to me at the minute.”

“I didn’t realise you did anything wrong, Miss French, apart from wanting to do something for yourself and your fiancé.” Rumald declared to her and carried on to say. “And you just wanted the best teacher for you both. I don’t see anything wrong in that, do you?” He paused for effect, letting his question do its magic. “Well, I wouldn’t have found anything untoward with that, if I was Gaston.”

He smiled to himself, even as he hated himself for manipulating her, listening to her on the other side of the phone, defending herself. “I didn’t say I’d done anything wrong. He’s the one being the idiot and accusing me of things.”

“Look, the offer is there, if you want to chat it through. But I’ve got some things I need to get on with.” Rumald tried to hold back his smirk as he ended the call by saying. “Goodbye, Miss French.”

Loudly, Rumald blew out a breath as he dropped his phone to sit on top of his newspaper on the table. He was taking a gamble. They could have talked it through on the phone, however this was not enough. Offering to meet her somewhere would not have been enough either. Too many eyes and ears intruding into their conversation. Rumald wanted her all to himself. Now all he could do, was to sit and wait and see if his gamble paid out in his favour. He did accept, Belle might have been offended by the way, he had cut off their phone call to an abrupt goodbye. But he hoped, it might have given her enough fire to push herself through it and bring herself over to his house.

Rumald stood up from the patio chair and took his phone, newspaper and tea cup inside with him. He did as he had told her on the phone, getting on with the few jobs he had left around the house. Though, as he had done these jobs, Rumald had kept a keen eye on the nearby clocks or on his wrist watch, ticking off the minutes, which turned into hours. After two hours had passed, Rumald knew his gamble had failed and had moped around the house.

Deciding at about five o’clock to make a start on his dinner, Rumald put on some classical music to play in the living room and headed through the dinner room into the kitchen. He opened the fridge and grabbed a jar of pasta sauce from the top shelf and some other ingredients from the fridge, and closed the door as he walked by it. Depositing the jar and his ingredients onto the kitchen island, Rumald pivoted round to snatch a medium sized knife from his knife block and set to work chopping up his ingredients.

His ingredients were chopped finely into groups on his wooden chopping board. He popped open the packet of mincemeat with his knife and removed it from the packaging, discarding the packaging into the trash. Ready to start cooking, Rumald removed his frying pan from the pan rack over the kitchen island and placed it on top of the stove as he lit the ring underneath. A dribble of oil into the pan and Rumald set about grabbing handfuls of his ingredients, carrots and onions, and threw them into the pan. He grabbed himself a wooden spoon from the nearby pot of utensils, using it to move his ingredients around the pan to keep them from catching. Once his onions had a tinge of brown to their edges, Rumald broke up the mincemeat into the pan and stirred it into his other ingredients, moving his ingredients in an anticlockwise direction. When his mincemeat had browned, Rumald twisted the lid on the pasta sauce, the lid made a plop noise when Rumald had opened it, and poured the contents into the pan, stirring his ingredients into the red sauce.

He reached out to the pan rack again and selected a medium size pan for his pasta. Taking the few steps to the sink, Rumald half-filled the pan with water, while his attention was caught by a set of car lights driving down his street towards his house. The car drove by at a slow pace. He did not give it much mind and took the saucepan of water to the stove, and lit the ring underneath the saucepan.

Rumald turned to go to the pantry, just as the doorbell of his front door rung. He halted in front of his fridge and looked through into the foyer, seeing someone on the other side of the coloured glass. Not in a hurry to answer the door, Rumald went to the pantry behind the fridge and picked out of a bag of pasta as whoever it was, rung his doorbell again.

“Okay, okay!” He called out to them. “I’m coming!” And left the bag of pasta on the kitchen island as he went from the kitchen into the foyer.

Yanking open the front door, he was pleasantly surprised to see Belle stood on his front porch. “Miss French.”

“I want to talk it through.” She stated to him, glancing over either of her shoulders at the street behind her.

“Come on in.” Rumald invited her into his home by opening the door wider. “I’m just making some dinner.”

Belle halted coming into his house and waved her hand towards the doorway. “I can come back later…?”

“It’s no bother.” He told her with his brogue becoming thicker for a second.

“It’s not a problem, I can come back later.” She told him, although she was walking further into his house, her nose smelling the air.

Rumald closed his front door, saying to her as he walked back into the kitchen. “Not at all.” He collected the packet of pasta on his way to the stove and opened the packet to pour its contents into the bubbling pan of water. “What would you like to discuss?”

“Everything.” She said with an exasperated breath, waving her hands through the air, following him into his kitchen.

“Try and be specific.” He held back his chuckle, putting the empty packet in the trash underneath the sink.

“For starters, like I said on the phone, I’ve only been dancing a month. How does Regina even think, I could compete in a professional dance competition?” Belle demanded an answer from him.

He picked up the wooden spoon from by the stove and stirred his sauce, turning down the heat underneath it, as he replied to her question. “She saw us dancing the other night and saw that we danced well together.” He pouted his lips in thought and then corrected himself, angling himself to see her. “Actually… Not well. We dance perfectly together.”

“Do we?” She asked, amazed.

“Yeah, we do.” Rumald smiled at her, unashamed of showing his crooked teeth to her. 

Belle returned his smile. “I do have a good teacher.”

Rumald dropped his smile, saying. “All I did was show you some steps. You’re a natural dancer.” He nodded his head in agreement with himself. “You were mesmerising, when I saw you dancing in the Rabbit Hole. I couldn’t take my eyes off of you.” He stopped himself from saying anything more incriminating and got back onto the subject. “That’s part of the reason, why Regina thought we would be a better choice for her Waltz entry. Attracting the judges eye is crucial.”

“Why doesn’t she just dance with you?” She inquired, having a point.

“She’s got a prior engagement, which she can’t get out of.” He made something up on the spot, as he stirred his sauce and kept an eye on his pasta.

“She can’t get out of it?” Belle asked in a sceptic tone. 

He shrugged his shoulders at her. “It’s just what she told me.”

“It’s for professional dancers. I don’t even understand, how I could possibly stand a chance against them.” She brooded on the other side of his kitchen island, her hands placed on the edge of the counter.

“Don’t worry about winning.” Rumald gave her a sympathetic look, seeing the confusion on her face. “Forget all about winning. It’s all about representing.” The look of confusion on her face deepened, so Rumald explained. “Yes, winning would be brilliant, but we’re going so Regina has an entry for the Waltz. In a sense, we’re the wildcard. We’re not expected to win, but of course, it could be possible.”

“Really?” She questioned on a breath, her confusion changing to hope.

Rumald pursed his lips in thought, really thinking about it, before he said. “There’s always a chance.”

Belle breathed noisily through her nose and changed the subject slightly. “I don’t think Gaston would be happy with me staying away for the weekend.”

“Because of me or just staying away for the weekend in general?” He questioned, while checking his pasta was done.

“Both, probably.” She sounded miserable and it caught Rumald’s attention as he collected his strainer from the rack above kitchen island.

With the strainer in both his hands, Rumald asked her. “Is he controlling?”

“Not really.” Belle looked embarrassed, avoiding his gaze, finding something on the kitchen island counter interesting.

Rumald’s fingers clutched painfully at the strainer in his hands. It was always guys like Gaston, he thought to himself, keeping what he thought to himself grabbing the pan of pasta from the stove to take to the sink. The strainer clattered into the sink, his anger had got the better of him for a few seconds and he reined it back under control, concentrating on pouring the hot water through the strainer. He wanted to find Gaston and beat him with the saucepan in his hand. He wanted to rip the man’s heart out and repeatedly stamp on it.

“He’s not that bad.” She told him stood beside him, startling Rumald into dropping the pan into the strainer in the sink.

The hot water splashed catching Rumald’s hand, burning his little finger and ring finger on his left hand. Without even thinking about it, Rumald turned on the cold water and quickly diverted it away from his pasta into the smaller sized sink, between the large sink and the draining board. He held his hand at an awkward angle under the cold stream, trying to see where he had burned his fingers.

“Sorry, I didn’t mean to startle you!” Belle grabbed hold of his left wrist, moving his hand to direct most of the cold water to the two burnt fingers.

“You don’t need to apologise.” He said in a hushed voice.

When Belle had grabbed his wrist, she had inadvertently stepped in front of him, taking all care for his hand away from him, and diverted his attention to her ponytail, which was now wafting in front of his face. She was telling him again how sorry she was, unaware of the affect she had had on him. Faintly leaning forward, Rumald closed his eyes taking in a sneaky breath of her smell. A sound, he could only describe as pleasure, emitted from deep inside his throat, knowing no better smell than hers. No flower, perfume, soap or anything man made or natural, smelled as good as Belle. He breathed in her scent again, his nose lightly skimmed the hair of her ponytail.

“You’ll want to put some ointment on your fingers.” She instructed him as she turned off the cold tap.

“Think there’s some upstairs.” His voice did not sound anything like his own voice.

She turned his hand, so she could inspect the red marks on his fingers. “They look painful.”

“Painful, yes.” Rumald murmured into her ponytail.

“I could go upstairs and get…” Belle began to suggest before she turned around and realised how close Rumald was to her. “Get…” She took a shuddered breath. “Get the ointment for you.”

He let out a reluctant breath, knowing it wouldn’t be as concentrated as his previous breaths, and said to her. “It’s fine. I’ll do it later.”

They were so close to one another. The temptation to lean into her to place a sweet kiss on her soft lips was really inviting to Rumald. So much so, he felt himself already inclining himself toward her. To hell with his promise. Rumald had always been a man, who took what he wanted and he always got what he wanted. Why was she any different? Why did she get special treatment over anyone else? He wanted her and he was positive she wanted him, so why did it feel so wrong to want to kiss her right there and then?

The little voice in the back of his head reminded him, she was not his… yet. That thought alone was enough to stop him from leaning any further forward. Belle was special. She was everything to Rumald and could quite possibly be the only woman, he had ever met, who could be bright enough to keep him from his darker side.

“Mr Gold, your sauce.” Belle pointed to the stove.

“What?” He followed the direction her finger and suddenly jumped into action, hoping over to the stove to take the pan off the ring.

While cursing loudly at himself, Rumald turned off the stove and snatched his wooden spoon up from the counter to stir the contents of his frying pan. He could feel through the wooden spoon that the sauce had caught at the bottom of the pan. Letting out a low growl at himself, Rumald shook his head at himself and tried to salvage what he could of his sauce.

“Have you eaten yet?” Rumald inquired as he left his sauce on the stove and return to the sink to remove the saucepan from his strainer, and emptied out the rest of the pasta into the strainer.

“No, not yet.” She answered moving away from him, putting the kitchen island between them.

He shook the strainer in the sink, trying to get rid of all the water from the pasta, as he asked her. “Would you like some dinner?”

“I couldn’t.” Belle smiled at his invitation to share dinner with him. “I’ve already interrupted you while you were cooking and scared you into burning yourself. I couldn’t possibly indulge myself further by stealing your food.” She was rapidly blinking his eyes, waving her hands through the air. “Plus, your neighbours are going to start talking, if they see my car parked outside your house longer than an hour. Also, I should be at home… doing something…”

“Miss French,” He said her name to stop her from prattling any more excuses. “It’s dinner. Not a marriage proposal.” He moved to the kitchen island with the strainer and sat the strainer inside the saucepan. “And I don’t care what my neighbours think, do you?” He pointed the question to her with a look.

“I… I…” She dropped her shoulders. “Not really.”

“I always make too much, so I can have the leftovers tomorrow.” He stated to her, moving around his kitchen to collect plates and cutlery.

Belle watched him as he came back to the kitchen island, telling her. “If you want some food, you can gladly have some.” He paused and added. “I would appreciate the company, anyway. Gets a bit tiresome eating alone all the time.”

As he was dishing out the food between the two plates, Rumald chanced a look up at her and caught the sorrowful look on her face. She felt sorry for him and he hated that she did. He dropped his eyes to the plates and switch pans to serve the sauce onto either plate. If she would have been anyone else, giving him that look, Rumald would have torn them down in an instant and made them regret the hint of feeling sorry for him. Rumald found it quite hard to stop himself snapping at her. He did not deserve anyone’s compassion, not after the things he had done to people in the past.

Leaving the frying pan and the strainer on the side, Rumald collected the knives and forks he had gathered earlier and picked up both plates for food, and moved around the kitchen island to the breakfast table, saying. “We can eat here, if you like?”

“Yeah… That’ll be fine.” She followed him to the breakfast table, pulling out a chair from the table that was in front of the plate of pasta.

Rumald was avoiding her gaze, not wanting to see her sympathy again, and strolled back into the kitchen to collect a bottle of red wine from the rack in the pantry. “Wine?”

“Erm…” She was twisted in the chair, when he came out of the pantry to see him. “Sure.”

He opened the bottle of wine and collected two wine glasses before he returned back to the breakfast table, setting a glass down in front of her. Placing the bottle on table to breath, Rumald picked up his fork and began to eat his pasta. He fed himself some pasta, slyly looking out of the corner of his eye at Belle, who was happily eating her pasta.

“This is really nice.” Belle informed him, between mouthfuls.

Rumald picked up the bottle of wine to pour some into Belle’s glass and then his own, saying to her. “I’m glad it’s to your liking.”

“It’s not often someone else cooks for me.” She confessed reaching for the glass of wine he had poured for her.

“I have the same problem.” He shared with her as he stabbed a few pieces of pasta onto his fork. “No one seems to cook around here apart from me.” Rumald showed her half a smile as he said it, feeling an ounce of sadness at his loneliness.

Her own smile was half-hearted as well. “Yeah, I suppose that’s the problem with living on your own.”

Belle took a moment to consider him, as he fed himself a fork full of pasta, which he avoided just like he had done before. She was being too kind to offer him compassion. If she only knew the things he had done. The things he would do for his own selfish gain and for his business… for her. Rumald was sure that if she knew these things, any chance of winning her over and capturing her heart would be gone. Her heart was too pure to accept his darker side. Milah and Cora had both embraced his dark side, but both of them had been unable to completely understand him. Unwilling to give themselves to him, heart and soul. They had both used him like a stepping stone.

“Regina was telling me that you’ve won a lot of dance competitions in the past.” Belle imparted to him, bringing him out of his thoughts of the past.

Rumald sat up straighter in his chair, blinking his eyes at her a few times, as he processed her statement. “A few.”

She teased the pasta on her plate with her fork as she said to him. “I don’t want to let you down at this competition.”

“Belle,” Saying her forename, made Belle snap her head to look at him as he laid his hand over hers, causing her fork to clink down onto her plate. “You could never let me down.”

Her eyes study his face for the truth as he quickly said to her. “It would be a good opportunity for you though.”

“How?” Belle’s voice was nearly a whisper.

“Seeing as the competition would be next Saturday. We’d have to practise every day, so in turn you would get some extra lessons for your money.” He informed her, while unconsciously stroking his thumb over the back of her fingers.

She licked her lips nervously. “There is that.”

Tentatively Rumald pulled a corner of his lips into half a smile, jesting to her. “Course, spending the extra time with me, is definitely a reason to do it.”

“It is.” Belle agreed with him in a whisper as her fingers lightly clasped at his hand holding her hand.

His chest heaved heavily at hearing her whispered retort. Rumald refused to look away from her gaze, needing her to see how much he wanted her. There was a curious look in her eyes. Unsure what it was, he inclined himself towards her to get a better look, squinting his eyes at her. She mirrored his action, tilting herself in his favour. It looked as though she was seeking something out as well, delving deeper into the depths of his eyes.

“I…” She stammered at him. “I… I…”

“Yes?” Rumald urged her to continue.

Her brow scrunched at a thought before she finally got her words out. “I need to think it over.”

“Yes, you do.” He agreed with her, though he did not have a clue what she was actually referring to, losing all sense of their conversation.

“I’ll try and give my answer to Regina tomorrow.” She stated to him, while her eyes dropped to his lips and back to his eyes.

Rumald slowly nodded his head at her. “That would be best.” And added. “Then we can start practising on Monday.”

Belle’s brow pressed down over her eyes as she thought a loud. “I’ve got to talk to Gaston as well.”

“Gaston?” He had forgotten all about Gaston and at the mention of Gaston’s name, the spell over Rumald was broken.

Leaning away from Belle, Rumald slowly removed his hand from Belle’s, trailing his fingers across the table to himself, saying to her. “Of course, you do.”

“He is my fiancé.” She reminded him, a little stronger than required.

“I’m agreeing with you.” He defended himself.

“Talking of Gaston,” Belle stood up from the table, telling him. “He’s going to be wondering where I am. Thank you, Mr Gold for the chat and the dinner. It’s been most helpful.”

Rumald gestured to her half eaten plate of food. “You haven’t finished.”

Belle smiled graciously at him, moving around her chair to push it back underneath the table. “It was very nice. I just wasn’t that hungry.”

“Right…” He murmured feeling uneasy at her sudden change.

“I better go.” She told him hurrying by the back of his chair to the foyer as Rumald stood up from the table.

As he was moving out from his chair to say goodbye to her, Belle had already reached the front door and had opened it, pausing half out of his front door to say. “I… Thank you.”

Rumald opened his mouth to stop her, to say anything that would make her stay a little longer, but she was gone, closing the door behind her. Standing in the opening from the kitchen to the foyer, he placed his hands on his hips, not knowing what to do with himself now she was gone. Creasing his brow in thought, he went over their conversation, trying to work out whether it was something he or she had said that had spooked her. The only thing he could conclude, it was at the mention of Gaston’s name, which had sent her running for the door. Closing his eyes, Rumald titled his head all the way back, as though he was looking up at the ceiling, and cursed the heavens above him.


	21. Chapter 21

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Rumald and Belle begin practising for the competition.

The call from Regina had come late on Sunday evening, informing him Belle had agreed to do the competition the following Saturday. He had not known how to feel about it as Regina had been telling him. After she had told him, Rumald had ended the call and tossed his phone to sit on the couch beside him, zoning out onto the television. He had not been watching it. He had not been doing much of anything since she had hastily left his house the night before. Going through the motions, Rumald had washed up their dishes and his pans, had another glass of wine and had retired early to bed on Saturday night. Sunday, he had crawled out of bed and had plonked himself in front of the television, only moving when it absolutely necessary. Rumald knew he had spent the time since she left sulking, wishing things had been different and hoping things would go in favour. Having her here in his home, sharing dinner with her, was a delicious taste of what their life could be together. And he wanted more of it, chasing another high, needing a fix of her like an addict.

Saturday night still haunted him as he had come into work Monday morning, hopeful she might have been opening the library when he arrived at the shop. Rumald had tried not to pay it too much attention, when she had not been there. It would have been unusual for her to be there at eight. Busying himself with the stock that had arrived on Saturday, Rumald had unpacked the boxes and had checked the inventory and each piece for damage. That had, thankfully, kept him busy until mid-afternoon. His mind had solely on the task in front of him and had not been on the brunette across the street. Well… That had been what he had told himself.

Wearily, Rumald rubbed a hand over his tired face, not sure he had the energy to go to their practice session. Saturday and Sunday night sleep had eluded him, and when he had dreamed, his unconscious had tortured him with what could have happened Saturday night. If she had not thought about Gaston and said his name, their moment could have escalated to so much more and it pained him to think about it.

In some regard, it felt like Rumald had lost her for good on Saturday night. If he had only taken the chance, when it had presented itself to him, instead of trying to live to some morale code, things could have changed drastically. They could have spent Sunday lazy discussing where to take things. Sure, there would have been a fallout after Belle had told Gaston they were over. Rumald was prepared for it. Whether he had to fight verbally or physically for her, he would. He would fend off anyone, who stood in their way, no matter who they were: friend or foe. And that was his weekend turmoil, living it over and over again, playing out what could have been and what would have happened.

Closing his eyes to his thoughts, Rumald tried to quieten his mind by thinking about nothing. Just black, he thought. An endless black room. Nothing, but four walls, a ceiling and a floor. He concentrated on this image.

“Mr Gold,” Dove poked his head through the curtained doorway to say. “I’m heading out. Do you want me to lock the front of the shop for you?”

Rumald opened his eyes to look at Dove, who was giving him a strange look, and said. “No, thank you, Dove. I’ll do it, when I leave.”

“Yes, sir.” Dove paused to say. “Goodnight, sir.”

“Night.” Rumald replied courteously.

The bell rung above the front door of the shop, signalling Dove had left, as Rumald rubbed his chin in thought. There was no denying it, there was definitely something between Belle and him and he was sure she felt it too. And had most certainly had felt the same thing as him on Saturday night. Which was another thing that had tortured him for the rest of his weekend. If Belle was feeling, the same way that Rumald was feeling, then she must be doubting her feelings for Gaston. She had to questioning their engagement, right? She just had to be, Rumald had told himself over and over again.

Rumald shrugged his eyebrows up his brow at himself, doubting even his own thoughts about her, while he hopped off of his stool at the workbench. His feet dragged on the floor as Rumald headed to the back door of the shop to lock it, closing up early to get to the dance studio. They were meeting there at their usual time, five o’clock, and Regina wanted to get at least a three to four hour practise in with them. Grabbing his overcoat from the coat stand, Rumald put it on crossing the room to another one of his workbenches and collected the bag he had prepared that morning. Inside was a clean shirt, a towel and some other things, he had thought he might need. He moved through into the front of the shop and locked up the remaining doors, and remembered to the turn the lights off before he left.

A small gush swept by him upon leaving the shop, tussling some of his short grey hair and catching his overcoat. Rumald buttoned his overcoat as he walked, his brow was creased deep in thought. As he stopped at the intersection to check for traffic, Rumald paused a moment longer than was needed, when he looked towards the library. Seeing it was clear, he crossed the street and then crossed Main Street, his gaze still creeping to the library. Rumald turned in the direction of the dance studio and breathed heavily in and out.

Opening the door to the dance studio, Rumald lifted an eyebrow at the unmanned reception desk, having grown accustom to seeing Mal there when he entered. He entered the reception area, looking through into either studio to see they were empty. Hearing music upstairs, Rumald proceeded by the reception desk and headed up the stairs, finding the evening class he had covered for Regina had begun. Not wanting to disturb them, Rumald headed into the opposite studio, where they had done the majority of their lessons.

He was a little early and took advantage of the small amount of time he had on his own. Dropping his bag near where Belle normally left her own, Rumald crouched down and unzipped the bag to remove a white hand towel. He stood leaving the towel beside his bag and removed his overcoat, and folded it to sit on top of his bag. Pivoting to face the other studio, Rumald observed them and noticed Mal was talking the class as he removed his suit jacket to fold and place on top of his overcoat. He was in the middle of removing his gold clip from his tie, when Mal’s eyes met with his own. Turning away, not wanting to intrude, Rumald removed his tie from around his neck and rolled it up to put inside his bag, underneath his jacket and coat.

As he was standing up, unbuttoning some of the top buttons of his shirt, Rumald turned to the voice in the doorway. “Mr Gold.”

“Yes, Mal.” He responded as he opened out his shirt collar.

“Can I borrow you for five minutes?” She sheepishly asked him.

Rumald was heading to the doorway as he responded with. “Sure.”

He followed her down the stairs and up the other stairs into the other dance studio, giving everyone in the room an evil grin. None of them looked happy as he entered their studio. Mal strolled confidently in front of them and Rumald followed her, while everyone’s gazes followed him.

“Maybe it’ll help, if you can see the steps performed for you.” Mal addressed the group as she detoured to the sound system to press play on her playlist.

Rumald titled his head as he listened to the music, guessing the group had progressed onto the Tango. Straightening his head, Mal approached him and offered her hand to him, which he took as he put his other arm around her. Her hand rested just off his shoulder, pressed into the back of his shoulder blade.

“I was trying to show them a progressive link into natural promenade turn, then into a rock turn.” Mal informed him.

“Okay.” Rumald took in her instruction, picturing the steps in his head.

Mal turned her head awkwardly to address the group. “Watch our feet.” And then said to Leroy. “Especially you, Leroy.”

Leroy was grumbling as Rumald led Mal through the steps she had stated, dancing across in front of her students. Rumald could hear the little whispers, whilst they performed the tango steps. When they reached the end of the steps she had stated, Rumald stopped and released her from his hold. She twirled in front of him to face the group, flicking her blonde hair up briefly behind her.

“See how effortless that was?” Mal asked them, but did not expect them to answer her as she whirled back round to face Rumald. “Do you mind doing the steps again with me? Maybe throwing in some flare?”

“I’m not a performing monkey.” He retorted to her, though his actions contradicted him as he offered his hand to her.

The song was changing to a slightly faster beat song as Rumald started to lead her through the steps, adding in the ‘flare’ as she called it. Mal was a strong dancer, he could feel it in the way she danced. Rumald could also tell she was reluctant to let him lead her completely, holding herself back from full committing to him. Though, as he threw in a turn and a twirl, Mal was un-phased and performed them beautifully. Rumald grinned and twirled her, leading her round to dip and bend backwards, catching her with a hand to support the back of her neck.

There was a small gasp from the group as Rumald used Mal’s momentum to bounce her back up and stepped into her, pressing his chest against her back. Without missing the beat, they both moved forward as one, taking the same steps together. After a few steps, Rumald used his hands on her shoulders to spin her back round to face him, taking a step back to give her some room and drew her straight into his arms. He caught the mischievous grin on her face before he spun her again to bend her backwards, catching her with a hand on her waist. Rumald panted and smiled at Mal, who returned his smile. He pulled her up, supporting her until she had her balance. A few of the students clapped at them, but Rumald paid them no attention, passing by Mal to leave the room, who quietly thanked him.

Halfway to the doorway, Rumald spotted Belle lingering by the doorway, watching him approach. He showed her a brief smile before he slid by her in the doorway, heading into their studio across the way. Closing his eyes shut, Rumald savoured the smell of her he had taken squeezing by her. There was no other word to describe what he felt, when he smelt her: ecstasy. Men would fight wars for the promise of a such a rapture.

Regina was hovering by the sound system as Rumald entered and twisted to see who had entered, when she heard his shoes on the wooden floor. She gave him a welcoming, but knowing, smile.

“You looked like you were enjoying yourself.” She said to him, while returning her gaze to the sound system.

“Mal’s a good dancer.” Rumald said as his only comment.

Belle followed him into the room. “That was amazing.”

“That” He shuffled his feet to face her. “Was far from being amazing. That was just for fun.” Rumald dismissed her praise.

“Whatever it was, it was still very good.” She bolstered her previous comment.

“Miss French, if you think that was amazing, you should have seen him dancing with my mother.” Regina interjected strolling over to join Rumald, while the Waltz playlist began to filter out of the speakers in the room.

“Your mother?” Belle questioned with a frown.

Regina’s head twisted slightly at Belle’s disbelief, while she proceeded to explain. “Rumald danced with my mother for… What? Six years?”

She directed her question to Rumald, who answered. “Eight years.”

“Eight years.” Regina repeated Rumald’s answer. “They used to travel the country competing and even competed in Europe.” Regina paused, remembering a memory. “It used to be so magical to watch them dance. They’re probably the main reason, I followed in my mother’s footsteps and took up dance.”

Rumald was feeling uncomfortable with the conversation, so he tried to change it. “We better get on with practising.”

“If you want to see a Tango, Miss French, I’ll have to dig out the DVD I have of most of their dances. They used to dance a mean Tango together.” Regina offered to Belle, stoking Rumald’s temper.

“Can we practise, dearie?” Rumald growled at Regina, giving her a pointed look.

Belle diverted away from them, delivering her bag to where he left his own earlier, while Regina and Rumald held each other gazes, conveying their conversation through their eyes. He knew she was proud of her mother and Rumald’s accomplishments. She had always been their number one fan. But right now, Rumald did not want to go down memory lane, reliving moments with Cora. Remembering those years, he spent with Cora were painful for Rumald. The regret, the remorse, his failings… They were too much to bear.

“Sorry.” Regina murmured to him, reaching to touch his arm.

Belle approached them. “So… Where do we start?”

“We’ll start with the two of you waltzing the room.” Regina smiled at Belle. “Tonight, I just want to concentrate on your form.”

Rumald held his hand out to Belle, waiting expectantly for her to take his invitation and step closer to him. For a brief second, there was a flash of a trouble look over her face as she placed her hand into his and moved closer to place her hand on his shoulder. Rumald eyed her curiously, while he brought his arm around her to place his hand just below her shoulder blade.

Regina circled around them, readjusting their arms and placement. “What you have to remember, Miss French, is that you are an exquisite beauty.” She moved round behind Rumald, peering over Rumald’s right arm at Belle as she continued. “It’s Rumald’s job to show you off to everyone.”

Stepping further around them, Regina placed her hands either side of Belle’s face and directed her head to cast her gaze upwards. “You have to cast your gaze over Rumald’s shoulder. Looking as though, you’re looking at the third balcony in a theatre.”

Rumald let a small smirk grace his lips, seeing the unsure look on Belle’s face as Regina moved her head. He looked away, but caught Belle looking at him from the corner of her eye. Pressing his lips together to hide his smirk, he did his best to keep his composure as Regina eyed them, raising their joined hands higher.

“Okay… Now, try and hold that pose, Miss French, while your waltzing.” Regina instructed and gestured for Rumald to start waltzing.

Counting down in his head, Rumald started to waltz after the count of one in his head and led her around the room. Regina was stood in the middle of the room, slowly following them, scrutinising them as they glided around the room. Every now and then, Belle’s head dipped, her chin bobbing up and down in corner of Rumald’s field of vision. He did his best to ignore it, seeing as he was not the teacher and kept up their pace. A chuckle wanted to escape him, but he held it back and turned his gaze to take Belle out of his view.

“Miss French, you look like one of those bobble head toys my nephew is fond of.” Regina remarked.

Rumald felt Belle stiffen in his arms, taking in Regina’s criticism. Chancing a look out of the corner of his eye, he could see the deep lines of concentration on her face as she kept her head still. Belle looked so beautiful in his arms. Her elegant neck extended, exaggerating the line of her jaw. Rumald pictured himself, burying his face into her neck, licking and nipping the soft, delicate skin of her neck. Losing himself in the smell of her. Clawing his fingers into the back of her blouse, frantic to keep her from escaping, holding her in his grasp until the end of time.

“Rumald!” Regina barked at him.

He turned his head away from Belle, posing himself, carrying on the waltz around the room. Regina was giving him a look, when he caught a glimpse of her. Though, he was glad the ‘teacher’ had caught him misbehaving, because Belle had relaxed in his arms again. Out the corner of his eye, he could see Belle trying to catch his eye, but he avoided it. She wanted to know what he had been doing and she was not ready for that kind of honesty from him.

“Good, good.” Regina commented. “Rumald, twirl.”

Rumald pouted his lips at being treated like a performing monkey, while he twirled Belle, sweeping her up into his arms to carry on their waltz. He could not help eyeing Belle, out of the corner of his eye, who was giggling at being twirled.

“Miss French, you can’t giggle on the Saturday.” Regina told her and said to Rumald. “Again, Rumald.”

On cue, Rumald twirled her and caught Belle, who was beginning into another fit of giggling, but she stopped, when Rumald plucked her bra strap through her blouse. The small flick of her bra was heard between them two of them and felt only by her. She frowned at him, holding her head perfectly in place.

“What the…?” She was going to question his actions, however Rumald interrupted her with a hushed reply. “Stopped you giggling.”

“Are you going to do that every time?” Belle inquired, raising a quizzical eyebrow at him.

“If I have to.” He told her honestly.

Regina could not hear what they saying, but ordered Rumald anyway. “Twirl, Rumald.”

Before he twirled her, Rumald half smiled at her and twirled her, enveloping her into his arms. He waited for the giggle, instead he was greeted with an unamused look from Belle. Smiling, Rumald carried on the waltz, feeling victorious in conquering her giggles so quickly. Unknown to Belle, Regina had been the same, when she had first started dancing. Although, Regina had been ten, when Rumald would twirl her and had a very good excuse to giggle.

“Very good.” Regina clapped her hands at them.

“She’s talking to you.” Rumald whispered to Belle.

Belle flitted her eyes at him for a second, then smiled at the praise she had been given by Regina. At seeing her smile, Rumald let a ghost of a smile grace his lips, proud of her as she kept up with him easily. Without being asked to do it, he twirled Belle again and changed direction on her, his smile broadening as she stepped with him, undeterred by the change. Regina clapped her hands again, giving Belle more praise as they waltzed the other way around the room.

Sometime later, Regina looked to the clock on the wall and said. “Okay, we’ll stop there for the night.”

Rumald dropped his arms from around Belle, who appeared to be as tired as Rumald. He was hot. His shirt was sticking to his back and he hated it, as he moseyed over to his bag, unbuttoning his waistcoat. Stripping it from himself, Rumald crouched down to move his overcoat and suit jacket aside, dropping his waistcoat to his feet. He rummaged in his bag for his other shirt, while Regina was talking to Belle somewhere over his right shoulder. Finding his other dress shirt, Rumald stood up beginning to unbutton his shirt, watching the reflection of Belle in the mirror.

“Whenever you get a chance, try and practise the pose.” Regina advised Belle. “Keeping your head up at that angle is not easy. It can give you neck ache. I can assure you of that.” Regina chuckled at her own omission. “Like I said, whenever you can, just pose yourself with your head titled up for a bit.”

“Okay.” Belle eagerly took the information in, nodding her head.

Rumald tugged his shirt out of his pants before he removed his cufflinks to pocket them, with Regina telling Belle. “Have you got a morning free this week?”

“Possibly Wednesday.” Belle answered and then queried. “Why?”

“You need a dress, of course.” Regina smiled at Belle.

As Rumald was removing his wet shirt, Belle said. “Oh… Are they expensive?”

Regina reached a hand out to give Belle’s upper arm a reassuring squeeze, while Rumald dried himself with his towel. “Don’t worry about the expense. Rumald said, he’ll cover the costs for anything you need.”

At hearing this, Rumald’s eyes went wide and he slowly pivoted to look at the actual two women, questioning Regina. “Did I?”

The two women looked at him and Regina answered with a smile. “On Friday. Remember? Outside your shop?”

“I did?” Rumald was at a loss for words. “Indeed.”

Disbelieving his ears, Rumald shook out his folded dress shirt, snapping it straight, imaging he was clouting Regina around the back of the head. He fed an arm into his shirt turning away from them, putting his back to them. Now, he had both of them outwitting him. Maybe, he was losing his touch as he was getting older, Rumald thought putting his other arm into his shirt.

“Anyway, I better go and catch up with Mal.” Regina said coming over to Rumald and whispered into his ear. “You should take your shirt off more often. She couldn’t keep her eyes off you.”

Rumald crooked his head to see Regina over his shoulder and then looked passed her to Belle, who was still lingering where Regina and she had been talking. Regina smiled at him and patted him on the shoulder before she took her leave. Tugging his right sleeve down, Rumald stepped round to be able to see Belle more easily, fishing out a cufflink from his pocket to thread through the holes of his cuff, securing his it closed.

Repeating his actions for his other cuff, Rumald asked her. “How did you find tonight?”

“Not too bad.” She replied walking over to him.

Rumald bent down to his bag and grabbed his deodorant from inside his bag, and squirted some underneath each arm and across his chest to toss the can back into his bag, as he said to her. “There’s some different steps and lifts you’ve got to learn.” He smiled at her as he closed his shirt to begin buttoning it. “Be prepared for more twirling.”

“Did you seriously have to pull on my bra strap?” Belle asked him, smiling at him while she gave him an annoyed look.

“It worked, didn’t it?” Rumald shrugged at her, his hands midway up his shirt buttons.

She could not hide her amusement even as she shook her head at him, saying. “Could have found a nicer way to do it.”

“Better than what used to happen, when I was learning.” He finished a few buttons down from his collar. “We used to get hit with a stick by our teacher.” Rumald confessed to her, sucking in his stomach to tuck in his shirt.

Her eyes were focused on his waist, watching his hands work the tails of his shirt into his pants. “That sounds awful.”

“What do you expect? It was forty years ago. Different lifetime.” Rumald said to her, straightening his shirt.

“Doesn’t excuse it.” Belle raised her gaze to his face.

“There’s a lot of things that can’t be excused with time, but we have to live with them anyway.” He told her, talking more from experience than wisdom.

Crouching down, Rumald packed his towel, shirt, waistcoat and suit jacket into his bag, piling them neatly inside his bag, and zipped it closed. He stood with his overcoat and was putting it on as Belle collected her things from the floor.

She stood up showing him a brief smile, telling him. “I better go. Gaston will be waiting for me.”

“Goodnight, Miss French.” Rumald said to her, while trying to think of something to say to her, that would keep her from leaving.

“Night.” Belle returned his sentiment as she walked passed him, heading to the door of the studio.

His eyes followed her in the mirror and Rumald watched her leave the studio, dying for a reason to keep her there. Again, he had let her walk out of the door, even though he had wanted to stop her. Angrily, Rumald turned up the collar of his overcoat and tugged at his lapels. He could not for the life of him, figure out why he was so useless when it came to Belle. Talking to women had never been a problem for Rumald. The few friends he had had growing up, had nicknamed him Don Juan. There had never been a night, when Rumald had not taken home the woman, who had caught his eye for the night. To Rumald, seducing them was child’s play, keeping them was another story. He stood looking at himself in the mirror and groaned at the old man in the reflection.

Bending at his waist, Rumald snatched up his bag by its handle and moseyed at his own pace to the doorway of the studio. Down below, he could hear Regina and Mal discussing Mal’s class as he came out of the studio to descend the stairs. They both glanced at him in turn, still having their conversation. Rumald ambled by them, heading to the front door of the studio.

Through the glass door, Rumald could see Belle stood by the kerb, looking either way down the street. He brow eased down over his eyes, causing his eyes to scrutinise her as he approached the door. Pushing open the door, Rumald called ‘goodnight’ to Regina and Mal and exited the dance studio, letting the door swoosh shut on its own. Belle glimpsed at him over her shoulder, sparing a moment from her study of the street, rapidly looking either way down the street. He scratched aimlessly behind his ear, taking a couple of steps to stand near her, joining her in inspecting the empty, dark street.

“He said he was picking me up.” Belle informed him.

Rumald pulled back his sleeve over his watch, checking the time. “It’s twenty to ten. What time did he say he was going to get here?”

“Nine.” She replied shortly.

“I’m going to ask the stupid question.” He said to prepare her. “But, have you tried calling him?”

“Yes.” Belle spat in annoyance at him. “First thing I did, when I saw he wasn’t here. Went straight to voice mail.”

He ignored the tone she had used with him and waved his free hand in the general direction of his shop, offering to her. “If you want, I can take you home.”

“Thank you, but I better wait here, in case he’s on his way here.” Belle said in response to his offer.

“Okay, well… Goodnight then.” Rumald told her as he stepped off the kerb, twisting to see her behind him.

“Night.” She said after him.

Shoving his right hand into his overcoat pocket, Rumald trudged his way halfway across the road and stopped on the line in the middle of the road. He could not bring himself to leave her. As he had stepped off the kerb to walk away from her, his mind had raced through the possibilities and he found himself unable to bear the thought of her getting hurt. His head bowed, while Rumald questioned, what had happened to the promise, he had made to himself after Cora had left him. Love was dangerous, he knew this more than anyone. Yet here he was, nearly fifty years old, his head had been turned by a young woman and he was happily breaking every one of his own rules. Rumald did not even believe in love at first sight, nonetheless, here he was stood in the middle of the street.

He accepted his thoughts and shuffled on his feet until he faced the kerb, where she was stood waiting for Gaston, and crossed back to her side of the street. Belle eyed him suspiciously as he came to stand beside her. Clasping both his hands on the strap of his bag, Rumald stood guard, watching either way along the street.

“What are you doing?” Belle asked him after a short time had passed.

He turned his head to meet her gaze, his face emotionless, as he answered her question. “Standing here with you.”

“I can see that.” A small smile tugged the corners of her lips. “But why?” She further questioned his motives.

“This isn’t the nicest part of town and this is not the sort of time, a beautiful, young lady, should be left waiting by herself.” Rumald informed her.

Belle rolled her eyes at him. “I can take care of myself.”

“It’s not about whether you can look after yourself.” He dismissed her comment, still observing either way of the street for her.

She turned to face him with a huff. “And what’s it about?”

Looking at her, letting a moment or two pass, Rumald sidled closer to her, telling her as he came to stand in front of her. “It’s about the fact, I couldn’t live with myself, if I left you here alone and something happened to you.”

His comment had left Belle puzzled, her eyes frantically searched for something in his eyes as she took an unsteady step into him. Rumald did not hide from her. He openly welcomed her see into him. Having taken that step, Belle’s head was angle to look up at his face, her brow twitched, while her mind worked through her own puzzlement.

“Why do you care about me?” Belle asked him.

Rumald slanted his head slightly to the side, half smiling at her question. “I never really said I cared, dearie. Just I couldn’t live with myself, if you got hurt. No one wants that on their conscious.”

“And you haven’t said you don’t, either.” She countered his deflection.

“Very true, dearie.” His smile widened, loving how quick and clever she was.

Belle opened her mouth to push him further to answer, when a pair of headlights blinded them both. Shielding his eyes from the lights, Rumald watched the car finish the turn from Main Street and lowered his hand as the car pulled up to the kerb near them. They both took a step, putting a space between them, while they inspected the intruding car.

The passenger door suddenly popped open, illuminating the interior of the car with light, revealing it was Gaston, who was hunched across the passenger seat. “Sorry, I’m late, babe.”

Belle appeared to be confused, looking between Rumald and Gaston, saying absently. “It’s okay.”

“Car wouldn’t start.” Gaston gave her a poor excuse from inside the car.

Rumald was not convinced, seeing as the idiot had not rung or left her message to tell her this earlier. The hairs on the back of his neck tingled at the lie Gaston had told. He had learnt a long time ago, lying to love ones always came back to bite you in the ass, which was why he was reluctant to do it so much these days. Lying depended on having a good memory. They needed to be simple and contain small amounts of the truth. Rumald doubted Gaston had car trouble. More he had trouble finding his car keys at the woman’s house, who had been entertaining him for the evening.

“Thank you for waiting with me, Mr Gold.” Belle told him, reaching out to touch his arm, giving his arm a small squeeze.

The small bit of pressure brought Rumald’s attention to her, their gazes met. She strolled away from him, keeping eye contact with him, and got into Gaston’s car. Even when the door had closed, darkening the interior of the car, Rumald could see she was still looking at him. Gaston wasted no time in pulling away from the kerb, leaving Rumald to stand alone outside of the dance studio. He waited there until the tail lights turned left further down the street. Shoving his hand back into his overcoat pocket, Rumald started to cross the street and headed back to his shop to collect his car.


	22. Chapter 22

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Gaston warns Rumald to stay away from Belle, while Belle takes Rumald up on his kind offer on a ride home.

Rumald stood with his hands on his hips, parting his overcoat, gazing up at the exposed beams above his head. He hated houses. He hated tenants. He hated spending money unnecessarily. He wondered why, he ever thought, it would be a good idea to be a landlord. Dropping his gaze down from the large hole in the ceiling, Rumald directed his gaze over to where Dove was dealing with the tenants, keeping his usual cool where Rumald would have hit the guy by now. Dove had the patience for tenants, hence why he dealt with them directly instead of Rumald. The sanctuary of his workshop at the back of his shop was the only thing Rumald liked dealing with these days. An item could not lie to him or conceal the truth from him for very long, revealing everything to Rumald once he had dismantled it and rebuilt it. Tenants, Rumald had learnt long ago, denied everything and lived in wonderland, when it came to knowing their tenant’s agreements. Believing Rumald was at fault for anything and everything in the house, including their own belongings being broken.

“I swear, Mr Dove, this just happened.” The man pointed to the hole above Rumald’s head. “I don’t know why Marko is saying, we’ve never left the bath running before.”

Rumald knew this was lie. He could see it was lie. There were signs of dampness at the top of the walls. The remaining ceiling had different wet marks, showing where the water had pooled on top of the plaster board. Letting out a disappointed sigh, Rumald watched his step as he left the bombsight of a kitchen, squeezing by the ladder left in the doorway of the kitchen to the hallway.

Carefully stepping by Marko’s toolbox and Marko, who was knelt down at his toolbox, rummaging for a tool, Rumald said to Marko. “Try and save what you can.”

“I’ll try.” Marko titled his head up to look at Rumald. “Some of those joists look like they might need replacing.”

“I’m still waiting for your foundation quote.” Rumald reminded Marko, ignoring Marko’s opinion of the joists.

“I’m chasing it, but I’ll get on to them as soon as I’m done here.” Marko promised as Rumald carried on to the front door.

Looking back at Marko, Rumald opened the front door, saying. “Just get it to Dove or myself as soon as you can.”

Marko gave him a curt nod of his head as his response. Leaving the house, Rumald closed the door behind him and followed the path down to the sidewalk. He hated being on this side of town. A lot of the houses needed gutting and remodelling, but they were in a liveable standard for anyone. There were some of his tenants, who tended after the property they rented from him, tending to the gardens and painting the exteriors of the houses. As Rumald’s eye roved over the neighbour, heading to his Cadillac, he thought quite a few of his properties he could see could do with a fresh coat of paint.

He opened his car door and dropped himself into the car, grumbling about the money that needed to be spent on the house. Digging his keys out of his pocket, Rumald started his car and headed back to his shop, glad his day was nearly over with. A few more hours and he would have to meet Belle and Regina at the dance studio.

Rumald made a couple of stops on his way back to his shop, collecting payments and reminding some others what was due to him. By the time, Rumald pulled up into the alleyway beside his shop, it was nearly five o’clock. Perfect timing, he thought to himself as he climbed out of his car and closed his door behind him. He ambled to the rear of his car and opened the trunk to retrieve his bag, and slammed the trunk lid down. When the trunk lid dropped from blocking his view of the library, Rumald sighed at the sight of the cream building, feeling a stillness wash over him. It was reassuring to see the library, a prominent reminder of Belle.

“Belle.” He whispered her name, barely hearing her name from his own lips.

Walking out of the alleyway, Rumald walked briskly to the dance studio, keeping his gaze from wandering to the library. He did hope that Belle would come out of the library and join him as he approached the intersection. His heart sung at the prospect. Rumald glanced either way before he crossed, eyeing the door of the library when he looked to his left. No sign of her. The fact Rumald had never bumped into her astonished him.

Taking the corner at the end of Main Street, ready to cross to the dance studio on the other side, Rumald halted mid step spotting Gaston’s car at the kerb on the other side of the street. He quickly checked either way and crossed the street, looking through the windows of the car to see if it was occupied. Through the back window as it walked by, Rumald could see there was no one inside of the car and guessed they were already in the dance studio. Rumald opened the glass door to the studio, glimpsing back at Gaston’s car, and entered to find Gaston was talking to Mal at the reception desk. Mal did not look impressed.

“Maybe you could take me for some private lessons.” Gaston suggested with a suggestive grin on his face.

Mal rolled her eyes, tired of umpteenth time a guy had used that line on her, telling Gaston. “I’m fully booked.”

Rumald approached as Gaston said. “What about after hours?”

“Mr Phipps,” Rumald intervened and grinned at Gaston jumping. “Will you be joining us this evening?”

“I want to talk to you.” Gaston said waving his finger in Rumald’s face.

“Mal,” He said her name as he lifted his bag over the top of the reception desk to her, asking. “Can you take this upstairs for me and let Regina know I’m here?”

“Yes, of course, I can.” Mal took his offered bag from him and hopped off her stool to disappear upstairs.

Rumald watched her until she entered the studio above and turned his attention to Gaston, saying. “And what would you care to discuss?”

“Stay away from Belle.” Gaston growled, his finger pointing furiously at Rumald.

Eyeing the finger in his face, Rumald reiterated what he had told Gaston some weeks ago. “I’m not going to stay away from her. And that’s not quite possible now, seeing as we’re doing this dance competition together.”

“You’re putting this nonsense into her head that she can dance!” Gaston accused him, flinging his arm wildly through the air.

“I haven’t put any nonsense in her head.” Rumald shook his head at Gaston and said. “She is a good dancer. If she had started younger, she would have been very successful.”

Gaston moved closer, spitting his words at Rumald, pointing his finger in Rumald’s face again. “You planned all of this! Just so you could get her alone! If I find out Regina had something to do with it, I’ll…”

In one swift movement, Rumald grabbed hold of Gaston’s accusing finger and twisted it, bending his finger back on itself. Letting out a sharp cry, Gaston dropped down onto his knees from the pain, clawing at Rumald’s grip on his hand. Rumald increased the pressure on Gaston’s finger, ending Gaston’s pathetic fight to save his finger.

“You’ll do what, Mr Phipps?” Rumald sneered, bending at his waist to bring his face closer to Gaston.

“I’ll make you both pay for this!” Gaston vowed vehemently.

Rumald yanked on Gaston’s hand, increasing the pressure on Gaston’s knuckle, as he warned Gaston. “Go anywhere near Regina and I’ll destroy you. Do you understand me?”

Gaston glared up at him, while he cried. “Yes.”

Relinquishing his hold on Gaston’s finger, Rumald stepped back from the wounded beast, in case it lunged out at him. He keenly watched Gaston nursing his hand close to his chest, using the reception desk as aid to get to his feet, glaring openly at Rumald. Not backing down, Rumald held Gaston’s glare, prepared if the younger man stupidly wanted to escalade things. They stood facing each other, waiting for the other to make a move or to say something.

“Is everything alright?” Came a voice from behind Rumald on his right.

“Everything’s fine.” Rumald answered before passing the question to Gaston. “Isn’t it, Mr Phipps?”

“This isn’t over, Mr Gold.” Gaston informed Rumald, finally taking a retreating step towards the front door of the studio.

Never taking his eyes off of Gaston, Rumald observed the other man until he had walked through the front door the studio and had turned to walk away. Remembering someone was behind him, he turned round to find Zelena hovering near the door of the dance studio behind him. The room was full of kids dancing, all preoccupied with their steps, while Zelena stepped out of the room and into the reception area.

“That guy giving you trouble?” She asked, spying passed him to look through the glass door of the studio.

“Nothing I can’t handle.” He replied to her.

Zelena moved her gaze to him, saying. “I don’t think there’s much you can’t handle, Gold.”

The corner of his lips flexed into a nanosecond of a smile. “I better get upstairs.” Rumald told her, gesturing to the stairs, and hurried his pace to get by her and the reception desk to the stairs. “Can’t keep them waiting.”

“Gold,” Zelena caught his arm, stopping him as he went by her. “Any chance we can go for that drink later?”

“I can’t. We’ve got a late practise.” He was honest with her and thankful he had an excuse for her this time.

“I can wait around.” She gave him a hopeful smile.

Inwardly, Rumald screamed at her, while he said to be brutally honest to her. “Zelena, I’ve told you before, I’m not interested in you.”

Zelena screwed her face up at his honesty, appearing repulsed by him, though he could see the hurt in her eyes as she waved a hand dismissively at him. “It was only a catch up drink. You have a very high opinion of yourself.”

“I’m sorry, Zelena.” He said, earnestly.

“Screw your apology.” She whipped away from him and stormed back into her class, closing the glass door behind her.

Rumald remained where she had left him, sceptical that she was done. The last time he had had this conversation with her, she had thrown things at him and screamed so loud people had come running, thinking he had been attacking her. Zelena kept her back to him, refusing to acknowledge him with another look, while she addressed her class waving for them to come over to her. Sensing it was over, for now, Rumald headed up the stairs and turned to go up the next set of stairs, when he heard his name being mentioned in the studio above him.

“Rumald and my mother were together for a while.” Regina was saying. “I didn’t know about the affair then, but it all came out in the open, when my mother divorced my father and moved in with Rumald.”

“Don’t you hate him for splitting up your parents?” Belle posed the question to Regina.

“I did for a long time.” She paused. “But, as I got older and got to know my mother, I hated him less and felt more sorry for him.” Regina shared with Belle.

“Her mother is very manipulative.” Mal interjected.

Rumald was not sure whether he was comfortable with their conversation, however, his intrigued kept him from ending their conversation, listening to Belle ask. “So, why aren’t they together anymore?”

“She left him.” Mal stated frankly.

“Yeah, she did.” Regina supported Mal’s statement, adding more detail. “It was very public though, the way she did it. They were at a dance competition in New York and had won another trophy for her endless collection. They congratulated each other and I can still see the look on Rumald’s face, when this guy ran up to my mother and swept her up into his arms, kissing her to congratulate her. They just walked off and left him there.” Rumald bowed his head at the memory. “It was so heartless of my mother. She left him there and everyone knew they were together.”

“That’s terrible.” Belle remarked.

“She broke what heart he had left.” Mal commented.

“Is that why he doesn’t teach anymore?” Belle asked them.

Regina’s voice sounded further away in the room, as she replied to Belle’s question. “Yeah. But, he secretly taught me for a few years in his basement.”

“In his basement?” Belle questioned, intrigued.

“Yeah, he’s got a small area in the basement, where he used to teach me.” Regina said and then thought about it. “Though, that was some years ago, he could have gotten rid of it by now.”

Rumald took this as his cue to enter the room and came in, asking. “Whose gotten rid of what?”

The three of them were huddled together in the middle of the room, gossiping like old women. They all looked at him like a deer caught in headlights, unable to speak to him. Rumald removed his overcoat, waiting for one of them to say or do something. It was Mal, who gained her composure first, crossing the room to hand him his bag.

“Thank you by the way.” Mal said to him on her way to the door behind him.

His gaze followed her out of the door and down the stairs, and he turned back to the other gossipers, when Mal descended out of sight down the other stairs. Rumald moved further into the room, eyeing them expectantly, as he came to a stop near where he had put his bag the night before and placed it down on the floor.

Regina smiled awkwardly at him and said. “I was just telling Belle, how you used to teach me down your basement.”

Rumald raised his eyebrows, faking he had not heard this outside the door. “Oh, yeah…?”

“Yeah, and I was saying, you’ve probably ripped it all out by now. Seeing how that was over a decade ago.” Regina further explained, what he had heard coming into the room.

He briefly nodded his head at the information, while he removed his suit jacket to fold and place on top of his overcoat, which he had already folded and placed on top of his bag. Looking down at himself, Rumald removed the gold tie clip and pulled his tie out from his waistcoat, as he pocketed his gold clip. Rumald loosened his tie and slid it out from his shirt collar, shuffling his feet to put his back to them. Eyeing them through the mirror, he looked away seeing Belle was watching him through the mirror, while Regina had gone to the sound system in the corner. Carefully, Rumald rolled up his tie to put into his back and stood up to turn round to face her, unbuttoning the top few buttons of his shirt.

“I ran into Mr Phipps on my way in.” Rumald stated to Belle, opening his collar out to reveal more of his neck and collar bone.

“I thought he had left.” Belle glimpsed to the doorway, as though she expected to see Gaston standing there.

He walked over to her, saying. “We were just having a pleasant conversation before he left.”

“Pleasant?” She moved her eyes to him, her voice full of doubt.

“Very.” Rumald grinned at her.

Music started to play as Regina came over to them, telling more Rumald than Belle. “I was thinking we could work on some advance steps today.” Rumald agreed with a nod of his head as Regina continued to say. “We can start with the change step, then the natural turn, reverse turn, and throw in the whisk step.”

“Sounds good to me.” Rumald further nodded his head at Regina’s suggestion.

“That’s a lot of steps.” Belle said to them.

Rumald shook his head at her, disagreeing with her comment, as he said. “It’s not. Nice and easy.”

“They’re not that bad.” Regina indorsed Rumald’s comment.

“Shall we…?” Rumald held his hand for Belle to take, which she did as soon as he raised his hand.

Holding his frame, he waited for Belle to get into position, placing her hand on his shoulder and raising her chin with her head on a slight incline away from him. Perfect, he remarked to himself.

“For the change step,” Regina began to explain to Belle. “Rumald will lead with his left foot and then side step with his right, where he’ll bring his left foot to meet with his right foot. Of course, this is opposite for you, Miss French.

“Step back with my right, side step with my left and meet my left with my right foot.” Belle listed off the steps she would have to take, reversing Rumald’s steps out loud to them.

“Perfect.” Rumald grinned at her.

Regina added. “The change step can also be lead with the right foot, so bear that in mind, Miss French.”

Belle nodded her head at the information, as Regina spoke to Rumald. “Can you alternate between leading with the left and the right, please Rumald?”

“Yes, ma’am.” He told her with a mischievous wink.

“Okay, let’s see it then.” Regina ignored his wink and walked a couple of steps back from them, giving them some room to move.

Rumald counted down in his head and lead her backwards on his left foot, feeling her tense in his arms. Her lips were pursed into a straight line, concentrating on the steps, as they moved to his right and ended the step by bringing their feet together. He felt her take a breath and hold it, waiting for him to urge her into the step again, preparing herself for which foot to step back with. Rumald kept his smirk off his face as he led her again with his left foot and wanted to chuckle at the confused look at Belle’s face. She was eyeing him from the corner of her eye as they finished the step. Turning Belle before performing the step again, Rumald started the step on his right foot and followed it up with a basic waltz step, which Belle followed seamlessly.

“Very good, Belle.” Regina said from the other side of the room.

Belle smiled as they did the step again, alternating to start on Rumald’s left foot. Adding another basic waltz step at the end, they moved effortlessly together as though they had been dancing together for years. Rumald guided her through the step again, starting on his right, and turned his head enough to watch Belle’s face. He could see she was genuinely enjoying herself.

Regina took a couple of steps and touched Rumald’s shoulder, stopping them from continuing the step. “She is quick at picking it up.”

“I did tell you.” Rumald reminded Regina as he reluctantly let go of Belle.

“Yes, you did.” Regina smiled at him and then instructed. “Let’s move onto the change step.”

Holding his hand up to Belle again, he noticed the baffled look on her face, at hearing they had been talking about her, and put his arm around her as she retook her position, with Regina explaining the step. “Rumald will lead with his right and as he steps with his left, will perform a quarter left turn. His right will join his left before stepping back with his left and then onto his right, and bringing his left to meet his right.”

“That’s a mouthful.” Belle remarked.

Regina smiled, asking. “Got it, Belle?”

“I think so.” She sounded slightly unsure, but readied herself to take the steps.

Rumald gave her a reassuring smile as he started to lead her through the steps, having every faith in her. They moved through the steps, taking each one together, their movement graceful. A smile crept Belle’s lips wide by the end of the movement. Without hesitation, Rumald began the steps again, waltzing along the end of the edge of the room with her. She kept her head perfectly in place, her gaze remaining over his shoulder, smiling the whole time they did the steps.

“Nicely done, Miss French. Can you alternate the steps now, please, Rumald?” Regina said to them from the middle of the room, following them around the room.

Doing as he had been asked, he felt Belle go rigid as they commenced with the new steps and changed to waltz back the way they had come around the room. On the last step of the movement, Belle let out a short chuckle and relaxed. Rumald moved her through the steps again, while his chest ached at how beautiful she looked. He imagined her in her ball gown, her hair pinned up to reveal the fine line of her neck, wearing a devilish high heel under her desk. At his own image, Rumald gulped and put the thought far from his mind, preventing his body from giving away his thoughts.

“Rumald, can you put the two steps together, this time?” Regina requested.

He did as she had requested, when they had finish the steps they had already started and led Belle through the change step into the natural turn. Her steps became bouncier, by the time, they had completed the two steps together for the second time. Her confidence grew every time they performed the steps.

“I’m impressed, Miss French.” Regina praised Belle as they went through the steps for the fourth time.

They practised the other steps, doing them over and over and over again, waltzing back and forth around the room. Rumald knew the hour was growing late with how dark it was outside the window as they had waltzed by it. Negotiating the corner of the room to travel along the glass wall, Rumald eyed the clock above Belle’s head and saw it was close to ten o’clock. He had not needed to check the clock, he ached enough to know they had been dancing for hours. Coming to the end of the set of steps, Rumald rocked Belle to a stop and let go of her, receiving a disappointed look from Belle.

“I think that’s enough for tonight.” Rumald told them, bracing a hand to his lower back.

“It is late.” Regina agreed with him.

Belle looked expectantly between the two of them, hoping for a reprieve when she said. “It’s not that late yet. We can do another hour of practise.”

“Not tonight.” Rumald said to her on his way to his bag.

He could feel her eyes watching him as he trudged to his bag, trying to decide whether he could be bother to change tonight. Rubbing a tired hand over his lower back, Rumald decided to just get home as quick as possible, jumping into a hot bath as soon as possible. It had been years since he had danced for hours and it was taking its toll on his old, unfit body. Crouching down with a groan, Rumald unstacked his clothes to retrieve his overcoat and unzipped his bag to shove his other clothes into the bag, while Regina and Belle planned their morning.

“Where will you be in the morning?” Regina asked Belle.

“I’ve got to open up the library first thing, so I should be there around eight.” She told Regina.

“Half eight.” Rumald said down to his bag.

“What?” Regina questioned him.

Through the mirror, he looked up to see them looking at him and explained himself. “She arrives at half eight.”

Shying away from their gazes, Rumald could feel himself turning red and hurried to pack his things into his bag. They carried on talking behind him, planning to meet at the library in the morning before heading to Regina’s favourite dress shop in Portland. Embarrassed by his omission, Rumald stood angling himself more out of their view and put on his overcoat. His head shook vigorously at himself. ‘ _It was tiredness, that was it_ ’, he told himself as an excuse. He breathed out heavily, releasing Belle was probably thinking he was some kind of stalker now. Stooping, Rumald snatched up his bag up to leave the room, trying to keep himself from running away from his embarrassment.

Rumald descended the stairs to find Mal was not at the reception desk and was thankful she was not there. He touched a hand to face and could feel the heat in his cheeks. Hurrying to the front door, he jogged the remaining steps to the glass door and left the dance studio. He did not look back and stayed focus on the street in front of him, telling himself he had to get home as soon as possible.

“Stupid!” Rumald cursed himself as he stepped off the kerb to cross the empty street.

As he reached the other side of the street and stepped onto the sidewalk, he heard his name being called. Rumald ignored it and quickened his pace to the corner of the street, needing to run away. He hated himself. Hated how he had shown a weakness to them. They would use it against him, people always did. Taking things people said and did, and twisting them to suit their own needs. Rumald knew they would, because it would have been something he would have done to someone.

“Mr Gold!” She called after him, gaining on him.

Rumald had just taken the corner to Main Street, when he felt her hand grab his arm and pull him to a stop. “Hey, did you not hear me calling you?”

“Sorry, I was in a world of my own.” He told her as a pathetic excuse.

“I was hoping I could take you up on your kind offer from last night.” Belle said to him with a smile.

Rumald frowned at her. “Lift home?”

“Yes, please.” She smiled beautifully at him.

“You not going to wait for Mr Phipps?” He motioned to where she had waited the night before.

“He’s not picking me up tonight.” Belle told him.

His eyebrows slightly raised above his eyes. “Really?”

She slid her hands into the pockets of her coat, her handbag hooked on her arm, as she suggested. “I can walk home, if it’s a problem.”

“No, no. Not at all.” Rumald motioned for her to walk with him as he started to walk up Main Street.

“I just thought it would be easier than waiting for Gaston.” Belle commented to him.

It was the first time he had ever felt uncomfortable in her presence. Glancing at her beside him, he wondered whether she was going to bring it up and question him about it, though he really hoped she did not. He had no excuses to give her. Nothing that would have sounded convincing. Rumald rolled his eyes at his feeble excuses, still lost for why he had felt the need to correct her, when she had been speaking to Regina. Who cared about half an hour? Well… Apart from Rumald.

“I love looking up at the stars here. They’re so bright and beautiful.” She shared with him, making him turn his head to look at her.

“They are.” Rumald agreed with her, but was thinking her statement was true of herself as well.

Belle twisted her head to meet his gaze, telling him. “My mother used to sit up with me some nights and we used to try and find the constellations.”

“Sounds nice.” He tore his gaze away from her and looked up at the stars she was admiring.

“It was.” She joined him in looking up at the night sky.

Spotting a constellation, Belle grabbed his arm and pointed to the constellation she had found, her handbag hanging down from her hand. “Look! There’s the Big Dipper!”

Rumald glimpsed at her from the corner of his eye, loving the wonder on her face as she smiled up at the constellation. Her eyes searched for another constellation as they walked, trusting Rumald to lead her. He angled his head to check her arm was hooked around his own and was pleasantly surprise to see her arm, was indeed, linked around his own. Relaxing from his earlier stupidity, Rumald puffed out his chest, feeling proud to have this woman on his arm as they strolled to his car together. If anyone saw them, they could have easily mistaken them for a couple and Rumald loved the thought of it.

“I don’t know, whether I’ll be able to learn all these steps before Saturday.” Belle confessed to him, squeezing her arm around his arm.

“I’m not worried.” He returned her confession with one of his own.

“Neither you or Regina seem to be worried.” She said to him, angling her head to see his face.

Rumald shrugged his shoulders as they slowly approached the intersection. “I’m not thinking about the competition.”

Belle scrunched her face at him. “How can you not?”

“Because I’m not bothered about it.” He crooked his head to see her. “I’m only doing this because Regina asked me to do it.”

She chuckled and asked him. “No other reason?”

“What other reason would you like me to give you?” Rumald questioned her expectations.

A solemn look came over her face as she requested. “An honest one.”

They came to a stop at the intersection and Rumald repeated her reply. “An honest one?”

“Yeah.” Belle followed him as he stepped off the kerb and walked across the intersection to the library.

“What makes you think my answer wasn’t honest?” He inquired with a glimpse at her.

“I just…” She creased her forehead at him as she said. “I just have a feeling, that’s all.”

Rumald noted her comment with a nod of his head, as they stepped onto the sidewalk in front of the library and started in the direction of his car. Slyly, he eyed her from the corner of his eye, hidden by the night, while he considered how she was able to tell he was holding something back from her. For decades, Rumald had been able to hide his feelings and his intentions from people. Belle had only been his life a short time and was beginning to be able to decipher him. He was not sure, whether he liked she could do that.

Approaching Rumald’s car, Rumald stayed with her, chaperoning her to the passenger door, and opened the door for her. He waited for her to get into his car and closed the door after her. Traipsing round to the back of the car, he opened the trunk to drop his bag inside and shut the trunk heading to his driver’s door, giving the shop a quick glance before he climbed into the car. Belle smiled at him, when he joined her inside and started the car.

They sat in a comfortable silence as Rumald reversed out of the spot and set off towards Belle’s home. The streets were empty with everyone in bed. A few lights were on in the houses as they drove by, but most of the houses were in complete darkness. Rumald thought about what she had said at the intersection and glanced at her under the shroud of darkness. She was happily looking out of the window, unaware of him looking at her, while she directed her gaze up to the night sky. He felt an urge to tell her. To share the rest of the truth with her, but Rumald was not sure she was ready to hear it or whether she wanted to hear it. Belle may have feelings towards him or even letting herself to have certain thoughts about him, none of that meant she wanted to act on them. Rumald returned his attention to the road and propped his elbow onto the door, massaging the creases on his forehead.

Belle’s street approached, slowing down and indicating, Rumald took the turn and drove the short distance up the road to park in front of Belle’s house. Looking up at the house as he put the car into park, Rumald could see the house was darkness and Gaston’s car was missing from the drive.

His brow scrunched at Belle’s missing car and asked her. “Where’s your car?”

“Oh… Yeah… Erm…” A look of embarrassment swept over her face as she explained. “We were a little short and my father needed some money as well, so we… Sold my car.”

“You were short?” Rumald questioned twisting in his seat, draping his right arm across the back of the front seat and his left over the steering wheel.

Belle searched out of the car for an answer before she answered him. “Gaston’s credit card was maxed and he didn’t have any spare cash.” She shrugged her left shoulder like it was nothing. “It’s fine. It’s only a car. I just didn’t have enough to cover all the bills.”

“You should have come to me.” Rumald informed her, moving his hand from the back of the seat to touch her left shoulder.

She scoffed at him. “And put myself into more debt? No offence, but no thank you.”

“I would’ve just helped you, if it saved you losing your car.” He told her and then probed her. “Where’s Mr Phipps tonight?”

“I don’t know, actually.” Belle turned her head to look at the empty driveway. “As far as I know, he’s supposed to be at home tonight.” She turned her head back to look at him, telling him. “It’s not unusual for him to go out though. He’ll be back later.”

“I’ll walk you to the door then.” Rumald budged round to his car door and reached for the door handle to open it.

Belle touched his shoulder. “Thank you, but no. I can manage the short walk to my door.”

He angled his head to see her over his shoulder and disregarded what she had said, and pulled the latch to open his car door. With a short push, Rumald closed his car door and walked around his car, meeting Belle as she climbed out of his car. He grabbed the car door, opening it wider for her, and waited for her to be clear of the door before he shut it. Belle was walking ahead of him to the front door, searching inside of her bag for her keys, glancing over her shoulder at him.

“You don’t need to follow me to the door.” She stated to him, climbing the two steps to her front door.

Rumald approached her from behind, eyeing the street. “Do try to have some chivalry, Miss French.”

The front door clicked with the lock residing and Belle pushed open the door, gaining entry to the house, as she said to him. “I appreciate that, I do, Mr Gold. But I was walking home from school, on my own, since the age of eleven. I can assure you, I can manage the twenty foot, or so, walk from your car to my house.”

“Why has it always got to be about you?” He questioned taking the two steps with one step, bringing himself into her doorway.

“Who else could it be about?” She returned his question with a question as she flicked on the light, illuminating the open plan living space behind her.

He clasped his hands in front of himself, shrugging his shoulders at her, as he gave her a small confession. “You can’t blame a guy for caring.”

“You do care, then?” Belle pointing her finger at him, a small grin on her face.

“Sometimes the rumour mill isn’t always right.” Rumald showed her half a smile and added. “Monsters have hearts too.”

“I don’t think you’re a monster.” She shared with him, leaning her weight against the inside of the doorframe.

Bending his knee slightly, Rumald joined her in bracing his weight against the doorframe, bringing them head height to one another, as he probed. “You don’t?”

He saw her swallow before she spoke. “I think, you’re carrying around a lot of guilt, because of what happened with your son, Neal. I think with what happened, between you and Regina’s mother, you’d rather be alone than be with someone. Playing into the charade that you’re a monster, a beast, is easier, as you can keep everyone at arm’s length, protecting yourself.”

Rumald was glad he was leaning against the doorframe, otherwise the truth of her words would have knocked him flat on his back. ‘ _How did she know all of that?_ ‘, he pondered gripping at her doorframe with his right hand. The fact her thoughts of him were accurate, scared Rumald. Though he was frightened of her truth, Rumald had never felt so exhilarated in his life, finally finding someone who could possibly understand him. However, could he dare to hope she could accept him?

“Is that what you think of me?” Rumald said coolly to her, masking his feelings from her.

“Yes.” Belle uttered the word as a whisper.

Bending his head by the doorframe, Rumald held his face inches from her own, hesitating as he waited for her to push him away and when she did not, he leaned the rest of the way to place a gentle kiss to her cheek. He lingered after the kiss, searching her blue eyes for any distaste, seeing nothing but delight. Rumald smiled as he backed away from her and shifted away from the doorframe. He stepped down the first step backwards, keeping eye contact with her, whilst Belle eagerly came out of her house to follow him.

Knowing he had to leave, Rumald turned taking the next step and waltzed the path to the sidewalk. As he walked by the front of his car, he let himself look back to her house, finding her still stood at the threshold of her house, watching him get into his car. Rumald dropped into his car with a smirk on his face and shut his car door to cloak himself with darkness. She remained on the front step, hugging her arms around him, as he pulled away from the kerb in front of her house, glancing over his shoulder as he drove away.


	23. Chapter 23

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Regina isn't able to take Belle dress shopping, so ropes Rumald into taking her instead.

Sipping at his coffee, Rumald was reading the morning paper on his workbench in the back of the shop, munching on his breakfast from Grannies. He had refused to get out of a bed, when his alarm had gone off, turning over to smother his face back into his comfortable pillow. Finding that perfect spot, Rumald had let himself drift back off to sleep, wanting to spend more time with Belle in his dreams. Although, he had slept for another half an hour, Rumald had still arrived to the shop at his usual time, unlocking the door just as Dove had arrived.

Rumald turned the page in his paper and held his cup up to his lips, pressing the rim of the cup into his lower lip, scanning the headlines on the two pages. There was nothing of interest, so Rumald turned the page again as Dove carried a box through in the back from the front of the shop. He let his eyes move to Dove, inspecting the large box in the other man’s arms. Dove delivered the large box to the other workbench and left to go back to the front of the shop.

Intrigued, Rumald put his coffee cup down and scooted off his stool, quickly crossing the back room to read the labels on the box. He was not aware of a delivery arriving today as he eyed the box and turned it on its spot to read the large label on the side of it. Seeing it was for himself, Rumald leaned across his workbench and grabbed a screwdriver that had been left on the bench, and used it to open the box. The screwdriver popped through the tape easily and Rumald dragged it along the length of the box to release the flaps. He tossed the screwdriver and opened the flaps of the box to find the box was filled with little balls of Styrofoam. Rumald groaned as some of the balls escaped from the box onto his workbench.

“Cheap, nasty packing.” He grumbled, while he delved his hand into the box, spilling more balls over his workbench and onto the floor at his feet.

Feeling another box, Rumald burrowed his other hand into the balls and grabbed the box inside, pulling it out with a huge wave of Styrofoam balls flooding his workshop floor. With the smaller box held between his hands, he peered down over his arm at the mess on the floor and trudged his way out, revealing his black shoes. He placed the smaller box onto the other workbench, where his newspaper and coffee was and collected the screwdriver he had used previously to open the other box, using it again to open the smaller box. Rumald dropped the screwdriver onto bench again, freeing himself to open the box and found more Styrofoam, not the ball kind but as a solid block. Carefully, he slid the Styrofoam box out of the box and opened it out onto his bench, finding it was a vase he had bought the previous week. He placed the vase on the workbench before he moved around his bench to retake his stool, eyeing the vase as he drank from his coffee.

Dove appeared again from the front of the shop, carrying another box into the room, and stopped when he was confronted with the mess Rumald had made with the Styrofoam balls. His eyebrows rose in a silent question, looking from the mess to Rumald, who ignored the look Dove was giving him. Rumald drank some more of his coffee, while Dove left the new box on the other workbench and went in search of the dustpan and brush.

The bell above the front door rung. Rumald stayed sat at his workbench, holding his coffee cup in his hand against his chest, admiring the vase on the bench. He was trying to decide, whether to sell it to his customer or take it home for his own collection. Dove had the dustpan and brush in his hands as he looked at Rumald and then to the front of the shop. Leaving it to Dove to deal with whoever it was, Rumald tried to picture, where he would put the vase… Dining room? Guest bedroom? ‘ _No._ ’, he thought with a shake of his head. There was no room for it in his living room. Though, he could put it in the sun room…

“Morning, Gold.” Regina greeted him, coming through into his workshop from the front of the shop.

Rumald did not move, but moved his eyes from the vase to Regina, who had stopped to look at the mess on the floor. “I thought you were meeting with Miss French.”

She tore herself away from the mess, though glimpse over her shoulder at it, as she approached his workbench, saying to him. “I was, but I was thinking last night.”

“Did it hurt?” He teased, tilting his head to examine the vase on another angle.

“Why don’t you take her shopping?” Regina suggested, ignoring his tease.

“Me?” Rumald exclaimed at her, straightening his back at her suggestion.

Regina waved a hand through the air as she explained herself. “More time for the two of you to be together. Uninterrupted. And…” She twisted to see the mess behind her. “It doesn’t look like you’re up to much this morning.”

“She’s expecting you.” He stated the obvious to her.

“It’ll be fine.” She batted away his statement with her hand and said. “Look, I’ve got to go and see my mother. So, if you take Belle shopping, I can go over there earlier and get it over and done with, and hopefully be back for practise.”

A cold shiver ran up his spine at the mention of Cora. “Rather you than me.”

“I don’t want to go at all, but she was rather insistent on the phone.” Regina disclosed to him, her distaste for her mother written across her face as she spoke.

“I’ll take her.” Rumald stood from his stool, tugging down his waistcoat, as he added. “Seeing as I’m paying.”

“Don’t give me that tone.” Regina smiled wickedly at him, following him with her eyes to his suit jacket hung on the coat stand.

He put on his suit jacket, turning to say to Regina. “Where were you meeting? At the library?”

“Yes.” She answered him. “I said I’d be there at nine.”

Rumald quickly checked his watch and saw it was just striking nine o’clock. Reaching for his overcoat, he started to put it on as he headed to the front of the shop. As he was passing by Regina, Rumald stopped with one arm fed into his overcoat and reached behind him for his coat, while he looked at Regina, pondering her intentions.

“Why are you helping me?” Rumald inquired as he slid his left arm into the arm of his overcoat, shrugging himself into his overcoat.

Regina smiled genuinely at him, placing her hand on his shoulder, and said. “You’re probably one of my oldest friends. I want to see you happy.”

He stepped closer to her and placed his left hand on cheek, keeping her still as he gave her a chaste kiss to her cheek. They held each other’s gazes for a second. Rumald stroked his thumb over her cheek, allowing himself to acknowledge that she was more than a friend to him. She was the daughter, he never had. Regina reached up to claim his hand from her face and returned the gesture, rubbing her thumb over the back of his hand, smiling at him.

“Go and get her.” She ordered him, swatting her hand against his shoulder.

Rumald rolled his eyes at her and left her, and marched through into the front of the shop, saying to Dove as he left. “I’m going out, Dove. Don’t forget to deal with that bit of business, we were discussing earlier.”

“Course, sir.” He said from behind the counter.

Opening the door of the shop, tingling the bell above, Rumald waited for Regina to follow him and precede him out of the door, saying to Dove. “I should be back this afternoon.”

He stepped out of the shop closing the door behind him. His hand stayed on the door handle to the shop, smiling at the idea of spending some more quality time with Belle. Regina was waiting for him, lingering nearby, as Rumald moved away from the shop door and strolled towards the library.

“I called Jefferson the other day, so he’s aware Belle’s coming.” Regina told him, falling in step at his side.

“Jefferson? How is he? I haven’t seen him in ages.” Rumald queried stepping off the kerb, offering hand to Regina as she stepped off, looking at her.

Regina grimaced as she said. “His wife died a few years ago, but he’s not doing too bad now. He’s at least working and his daughter is helping at the shop too.”

“I’m sorry to hear that. She was nice enough woman.” He said genuinely.

“Car accident.” She informed him and added some more details. “Jefferson was driving. Truck fishtailed in front of them. Nearly took Jefferson’s head off.”

Rumald’s eyes widened at the image, able to get an idea of what had happened to Jefferson’s wife from ‘nearly took Jefferson’s head off’. Looking away, down the street, Rumald forced the image out of his head, thinking solely of Belle and anything else, which could bring happier images to his mind.

As they arrived at the opposite kerb, Rumald offered his hand to Regina and aided her up the kerb. “As you’ve already spoken to Jefferson, I’m assuming he’s aware, she’s going to need everything.”

“Yes, I told him this was her first competition.” Regina said to him, letting go of his hand. “He’s going to have a selection there, ready for her to try on.”

“Okay.” He split away from Regina to go to the library door as they approached the front of the library, but with his hand on the door, Rumald stopped and said to Regina. “Thank you.”

A look of bafflement came over her face as she smiled at him, saying. “You don’t need to thank me. You’ve done enough in the past for me.”

“No, thank you.” Rumald repeated himself to her.

Regina showed him a smile over her shoulder, while she walked away from him to cross the intersection. Waiting for a moment, watching her walk even after she had turned her back to him, Rumald was thankful she had forgiven him all those years ago. Though, Rumald did not bother her, let her do her own thing, he always kept an eye on her, protective of her. Breathing in deeply, Rumald put his thoughts of Regina to one side and pushed open the door to the library.

Upon entering the library, the smell of old books and dust was the first to hit as he came through the door. Rumald frowned at the foreign smell, letting go of the door to let it shut behind him. He wandered his eyes around the small foyer, seeing an old elevator on his left, the circulation desk on his right and rows of bookshelves in front of him. His shoes clicked on the polish floor as he dared to enter further into the library.

“I’ll be there in a minute.” Came a distant call from the back of the library.

Rumald strolled casually to the bookshelves and spied down the rows, trying to the find the very beautiful owner of the voice he heard. Looking down the last row, he spotted Belle at the other end of the row, tiptoeing on a ladder, while she re-shelved some books onto the top shelf. Lifting a curious eyebrow, Rumald sauntered down the row to where Belle was stood on the ladder, his eyes following the perfect curve of her calf muscle until his view was blocked by her skirt. He slanted his head as he appreciated her legs.

A bookcase away from her, Rumald leant against the shelving, clasping his hands in front of himself, enjoying the view of her. She twisted and bent to collect some books from a couple of shelves below her, and Rumald smirked as her skirt hiked a couple of inches up the back of her thighs. He breathed out steadily, calming himself as he craved to run his fingers lightly along the curve of her calf, dipping his fingers under her skit to travel up her thigh. His thoughts were not helping him, but she would never had known it, if she turned to look at him. He was the picturesque of normality, while he inwardly fought with his yearning for her.

Belle ran her hand along the books she had shelved, pushing them back to sit on the shelf perfectly, and looked back to step down onto the next step of the ladder. She did a double take at Rumald, while her foot missed the step. There was a loud squeak of a cry as Belle slipped off of the ladder and an even louder ‘oof’ when Belle landed into Rumald’s arms. He clung to her, holding her tightly against his chest, while she pierced her fingers through the arm of his overcoat. Crooking his head to see her face, Rumald checked she was alright, slowly lowering her to place her feet onto the floor. Belle clung to his arm, turning her head up to look at him. Seeing she was disorientated, Rumald showed her half a smile, loosening his hold around her but refused to let go of her completely, savouring the moment.

“Mr Gold?” Belle asked, confused.

Rumald raised his eyebrows at her, as he questioned her. “You okay?”

She looked from him to the ladder and back to him, saying. “Yes, thanks to you.”

“You ought to be more careful, Miss French.” He advised her.

Her grip on his arm eased, but her hands stayed on his arm as she said. “Sorry, I wasn’t expecting you. I thought you were Regina.”

“Change of plans.” Rumald told her.

“Oh?” She muttered as a reply.

“Disappointed?” He asked her with a smile.

Belle dropped her face down, shying away from his gaze, as she replied to his question. “Not at all.” Feeling slightly braver, she lifted her gaze to partly meet his, saying. “I’m glad.”

Rumald’s smile broadened. “So am I.”

Her eyes twinkled brightly as Belle returned his smile, revealing her dimples to him. It was probably one of those moments, where Rumald would have leaned in and kissed her, if the circumstances had been different. Though, he had allowed himself the exception of last night, Rumald was still standing by his promise to himself. Belle would have to make the first move. No matter how he had argued with himself, he had to be sure. She had to show him.

“We better get going.” He said to her, withdrawing his arms from around her.

Feeling his arms move, Belle snapped her gaze down, apparently only realising his arms had been around her all this time. She let go of his coat and stepped back, straightening her clothes. Mimicking her actions, Rumald smoothed his hands down his overcoat and tugged at the sleeves of his coat, needing to occupy his hands and stop himself from dragging her back into his arms. Absently gesturing with her hand, Belle ambled by him to follow the shelving to the end, glimpsing him over her shoulder as she walked. He followed with a small smirk on his face.

As she turned the corner, cutting in front of him, looking back at him, Belle said. “I’ll just grab my things.”

“Okay.” He muttered taking the corner behind her.

Belle quickened her step and ducked behind the circulation desk, entering the small office. Through the blinds, covering the windows and the glass in the door, Rumald lost sight of her, seeing only flits of movement through the tiny gaps in the blinds. Standing near the entrance door, he rocked on the balls of his feet, clasping his hands behind his back, waiting for her to re- re-emerge from the office. There was knock and a bang from the office. Rumald stayed where he was, though raised a sceptical eyebrow at hearing her curse at herself in the office.

The office door opened further and Belle appeared, rolling her eyes at something, and came out of her office wearing her coat and with her handbag over her shoulder, telling him. “I’m ready.”

Taking the two steps to the door, Rumald grabbed the pull handle on the door and opened the door for her, waiting until she had strode passed him and had gone outside before he followed her. She rummaged in her bag and retrieved her keys, locking the door after Rumald. When she had locked the door, Belle pivoted round and walked with Rumald, who waved an arm towards his shop and placed a hand near her lower back, guiding her to kerb.

“Regina said, the dress shop was in Portland.” Belle told him fastening her handbag.

“Yes, Jefferson’s shop.” Rumald said offering his hand to her as they approached the kerb.

She took the step without taking his offer and said. “I take it you know him?”

“He’s the best dress maker in the state. I would say, anyone who does competition dancing will know him.” He informed her, keeping a watch for any traffic as they crossed the street.

“I hope he’s not too expensive.” Belle thought aloud and then pointed to her handbag, saying. “I saved a little bit of cash from selling my car, so I can contribute to my dress.”

Guiding her towards the alleyway next to his shop, Rumald glanced at her beside him, giving her a curious look. He loved she wanted to contribute to her dress, however he was not going to let part with anymore of her own cash. It was bad enough learning last night, she had sold her car to pay Gaston’s bills and had given some to her own father. Rumald had been trying not to pay it too much thought, though he wanted to teach Gaston and her father both a lesson for making her give up her car.

Rumald reached for the handle of her car door, opening the door for her, as he said. “He’s normally quite fair.”

She smiled at his comment as she got into the car, placing her handbag in the middle of the bench seat. Closing the door, his hand stayed on the handle of the door, taking a breath or two to calm his temper. Rumald did not know whether he was more annoyed at Gaston and her father or at Belle herself. She was letting them walk all over her, giving into their demands and trying to please both of them, while they treated her as nothing better than a doormat. He wanted to shout at her, wake her up from her stupor. She should be standing her ground and demand they treat her like a princess. They should have been selling their own things, so she could have everything this world had to offer her. Not clawing for every nickel and dime, gathering some money together to contribute towards buying a dress for herself.

“Everything alright?” Belle called from inside the car.

Rumald did not answer her. He moved away from her car door, taking the long route around the back of his car to his driver’s door. Opening his own car door, Rumald ducked inside and yanked his door close, slamming it a little harder than needed. He sneaked a look across at her, finding she was sat watching him with her eyebrows pushing up her forehead. Forcing himself to relax, he let out a loud breath pulling his keys out of his pocket to start the car.

Leaving Storybrooke to jump onto the interstate, Rumald decided to leave his thoughts behind him and enjoy what time he had with Belle. He would deal with Gaston and Maurice later. A couple of times, he had glanced over to Belle to make sure she was alright, but she had been happily watching the world pass by outside of her window, her right knee bobbing time to the music.

As he drove, Rumald could not help himself, from wandering back to his earlier thoughts, trying to understand why she would let them walk over her, when she was strong, capable woman. With all his musing, Rumald had known what the answer was before it had come to him. Love. It made her weak, when it came to them, allowing them to do whatever they pleased. The old argument of love made people weak began to play in his head. It was the oldest weapon and excuse for people to get away with things, and he hated it. Hated the concept of giving himself to someone, trusting someone with his heart, loving them unconditionally for them to stamp on his heart. Though, looking at Belle beside him in the car, he knew he would give himself to her, offer his heart to her on a silver platter. She could have him, whole heartedly, soul as well, if it made her happy for that was all he wanted for her.

Still stewing on his thoughts as they drove by the sign, announcing they had arrived in Portland, Rumald carried on for a bit and then turned off the interstate. Belle was watching expectantly, her gaze darting back and forth, trying to spot their destination. The motion of her head bobbing back and forth, brought a small chuckle out of Rumald as he switched on his indicator and turned down a side street. Finding a spot to park, Rumald swung the Cadillac into the spot and parked. Belle shifted in her seat, spying through the back windows of the Cadillac for the shop.

Rumald got out of the car and came about the car to let Belle out, offering his hand as assistance. This time Belle took his hand and held on tightly to his hand as she stepped out of his car. He closed her door and let go of her hand, watching her walk a few feet away from him, still trying to find a hint of where they were going. Starting back towards the street, Rumald adjusted his overcoat as he walked away from Belle, leaving her follow him. She caught up to him as he reached the sidewalk in front of the shops and slipped her hand around his arm. He felt rather than saw her hand, keeping himself from looking down to check her hand actually was on his arm. Feeling smug, half a smile pulled back Rumald’s lips, whilst they strolled by the shop fronts.

Reaching the door to Jefferson’s shop, Rumald reached for Belle’s hand on arm and unhooked her hand from his arm to lead her forward, propelling her to the door in front of him. He followed her closely to the door, holding his arm out by her to push the door open, smiling at her when she titled her head to see him over her shoulder. An annoying ‘bing-bong’ sound announced their arrival.

“Oh my…” Belle gasped at all the dresses on display.

“Go on.” Rumald urged her, gently pushing her forward. “Go and have a look.”

Not sure, she looked back at him as though asking permission and only moved away from him when he nodded his head to encourage her. Rumald sauntered over to the counter, waiting for Jefferson to arrive, keeping his gaze on Belle as she inspected a red sequin dress. He smiled watching her, loving the awestruck look on her face.

“Surprised you still know how to smile.” Jefferson said to him.

Rumald did not react to Jefferson’s comment, only saying to him. “Nice to see you too.”

“I thought you’d died.” Jefferson told him, coming around his counter to offer his hand to Rumald for him to shake.

“No, not yet.” Rumald said shaking Jefferson’s hand.

Jefferson was dressed outrageously as always with a cravat, peeking out from the collar of his shirt, hiding the scar around his neck. Clasping his hands together in front of him, Rumald took in the appearance of his old friend and could see his sadness from studying his Jefferson’s face. Not sure whether he should bring up the subject, Rumald chose to hold his tongue as Jefferson shifted his attention from Rumald to Belle, who had gone to the far wall to look at a rail full of dresses.

“Regina said she needs a dress for the waltz.” Jefferson stated, eyeing Belle across the room.

“Shoes and jewellery too.” Rumald added.

Jefferson twisted to see Rumald. “I’ve already got a selection picked out upstairs.”

“Miss French.” Rumald called across the shop to Belle.

“Yeah.” She called back, angling her head to see him, while she held back the dresses she had pushed aside on a rail.

He smiled, saying. “Jefferson’s got some dresses picked out for you, upstairs.”

Leaving the dresses, she had been looking at, Belle scooted around the different rails of dresses to where the two men were standing and smiled at both of them. Jefferson had a look of amusement on his face as Belle approached them.

“Jefferson.” He said in the way of introduction, offering his hand to Belle for her to shake.

She shook his hand, introducing herself. “Belle.”

“If you’d like to follow me upstairs, I’ll show you what dresses I’ve got picked out for you already.” Jefferson gestured for her to follow him, walking through the doorway behind the counter.

Belle glanced to Rumald, who waved his hand for her go with Jefferson, and curiously followed Jefferson through the doorway. Rumald slowly took up the rear and came through the doorway as Belle climbed the stairs, hot on the heels of Jefferson. Placing his hand on the banister, Rumald made his way up the steep stairs, taking two of the steps at a time. When he reached the top of the stairs, Rumald was surprised to find Belle waiting for him and smiled at her.

“Go on.” He urged her, gesturing for her to go further into the room.

She returned his smile moving further into the room, while Rumald came through the doorway, finding the room was just how it had been the last time he had visited with Cora. There was a small sitting area in the middle of the room, while the rest of the room was full floor to ceiling with dresses, with a small section of male attire in a corner of the room.

Rumald’s eye had already been drawn to the male attire, as Jefferson appeared through a doorway on Rumald’s left, dragging a clothing rail behind him. “Here you go, Belle.”

Belle turned to see the rail Jefferson pulled into the room. “What should I be looking for?”

“Just see what catches you eye first.” Jefferson waved his hand to the rail. “There’s no point wearing something, if you don’t like it.” He stated to her.

Rumald sauntered across the room to the male attire and flicked through the rail of waistcoats, while Jefferson asked the room. “Anyone want a drink?”

“No, thank you.” Belle said before Rumald said. “Yes, coffee, please, Jefferson.”

“White, two sugars?” Jefferson inquired as he headed out of the room.

“Yes, please.” Rumald unhooked a waistcoat from the rail and held it in front of him.

On the other side of the room, Rumald could hear the chinking of clothes hangers being moved across the rail. He bent himself to see her, still holding the hanger in front of him, and checked on her. Her brow was pressed heavily down over her eyes, studying each dress as she went through the selection Jefferson had selected. Rumald turned back to the rail to return the waistcoat and headed over to Belle, slowly edging around to come up behind her.

“You can try them on, if you like.” He informed her over her shoulder, bending at his hips with his hands clasped behind his back.

Belle titled her head back to see him. “I’m not sure, I can.”

“Course, you can.” Rumald placed his left hand on her back, while he reached by her to select a few dresses at random, handing them to Belle. “Take these.” He directed her with the hand on her back to the doorway, Jefferson had gone through to get Rumald a coffee. “Go through there and there’s a changing room on the right.”

“But…” She was cut off by Rumald pushing her towards the doorway, telling her. “Go and try them on.”

In the doorway, Belle paused to look back at him, her arms full of dresses, and then she went through into the other room. Feeling proud with himself, Rumald removed his overcoat and laid it over the back of a chair, and sat down into small couch next to the chair. He sat waiting, playing with the silver band on his right ring finger.

Jefferson came through the doorway with two mugs in his hands and passed one to Rumald, taking the seat next to him on the couch. “Is she trying on a dress?”

“Yeah.” Rumald said and blew at his coffee, so he could take a hesitant sip from it.

Leaning forward, Jefferson placed his mug onto the coffee table in the middle of the sitting area, saying to Rumald. “Been a while since I saw you last.”

“I’m sure you heard what happened.” Rumald said, angling his head to see Jefferson next to him.

“Of course.” Jefferson met Rumald’s gaze. “Just like you’ve probably heard about Priscilla.”

“To be honest, Regina only told me today, otherwise I would’ve come to the funeral.” Rumald confessed.

Jefferson placed his hand on Rumald’s knee. “I didn’t expect you to come, not with her there.” He squeezed Rumald’s knee. “A phone call would have been nice.”

“Sorry.” He said earnestly.

“Don’t worry about it.” Jefferson said removing his hand from Rumald’s knee to reach for his drink.

“How are you, though?” Rumald queried, watching Jefferson drink from his mug.

With thought creasing his brow, Jefferson held his mug between his hands, saying to Rumald. “As long as I got Grace, giving me a reason to get up every morning. I’m okay.”

Rumald grimaced a smile at Jefferson. “Yeah, kids are good for that. Giving you a reason.” He paused, placing his hand onto Jefferson back. “If you need anything though, just give me a call. A drinking buddy. A sympathetic ear. Just call.”

“Thank you.” Jefferson patted his hand on Rumald’s knee again, a sad smile on his face.

“How does this look?” Belle’s voice came from the doorway, breaking the moment between them.

Together, they directed their gazes to Belle, who was stood just inside the room, wearing a dark green ball gown. She pulled an unsure face at them, holding the skirt of the dress out at arm’s length. It was obvious, Belle did not like the dress and the dress did not suit her either.

“Not feeling that one, honey.” Jefferson said to her. “Try another one.”

Belle dumped her handfuls of the dress and sloshed her way back out of the room, pulling the dress through behind her as she left the room. Failing to hold back his smirk, Rumald sipped from his coffee, remembering all the times he had sit through Cora trying on dress after dress. The woman could try on every dress in Jefferson’s collection and still would not be able to decide on what to wear. He did not miss those days. Hearing her moan for days until Jefferson had designed and made her a dress to her requirements, to which she would still moan and Jefferson would have to make adjustments. It had been so tiresome.

“Whose dancing with her?” Jefferson inquired.

“I am.” Rumald stated putting his mug onto the coffee table.

“You are?” Jefferson exclaimed. “But I thought you weren’t dancing anymore?”

Shrugging his shoulders, Rumald said. “It’s just a onetime thing.”

Jefferson scowled at Rumald. “You’re not hoping to see Cora there, are you?”

“No!” Rumald bellowed at Jefferson.

Jefferson held up his free hand in surrender to Rumald. “I’m just asking.”

Their conversation died at the mention of Cora. Rumald snatched his coffee off the table, sloshing some over the rim of his mug onto the table, and drank from it. Beside him, Jefferson settled back into the couch, lifting his right leg to cross over his other leg as he drank from his coffee. Rumald bowed his head to look at the carpet, between his feet, holding back the urge to throw the mug across the room.

“What about this one?” Belle said coming into the room.

Raising his head, Rumald’s mouth dropped open at the sight of her in a royal blue dress. His eyes darted about her, committing every detail to his memory. Belle twisted side to side in her dress, smiling as the fabric swished with her movement. The body of the dress hugged tightly to Belle’s form, highlighting the curves of Belle’s breasts and the curve of her side to her hip. The body of the dress was littered with small and large sequins, while the long arms of the dress were covered in small sequins.

“It’s as though I made it for you, Belle.” Jefferson told her, getting up from the couch to go over to her, adjusting the layers of the skirt.

“Mr Gold?” She said waiting for his opinion, watching Jefferson down on his knee tweak the layers of her skirt.

Rumald opened and closed his mouth a few times and said. “You look amazing.”

Belle raised her gaze from Jefferson to Rumald, beaming a smile at Rumald he had never seen before, causing his heart to burst in his chest, while Belle spoke to him. “It’s a gorgeous blue. It caught my eye on the rail.”

“I’ve got some sequin heels to go with this.” Jefferson informed her, getting up from his knee to go into the other room.

Belle glanced in the direction Jefferson had gone and then looked back to Rumald to smile across the room at him. Adoring her, Rumald gestured with his fingers for her to twirl for him, which she did, emitting a small squeak as the skirt of her dress caught air. Rumald’s eyes widened at the sound, but his face soon softened at seeing the glee on Belle’s face as she twirled again, faster this time, making her skirt catch more air.

“Here we go.” Jefferson announced coming back into the room, with the pair of shoes in his hands.

Stopping and twirling back, Belle inspected the pair of shoes in Jefferson’s hands. “I didn’t tell you my shoe size.”

Jefferson knelt down, dropping one of the heels to the floor, and reached for Belle’s foot to guide it into her shoe. “You didn’t tell me your dress size, but it fits you like a glove.”

“No, I didn’t… How did you know?” She asked sliding her foot into the shoe.

“I’ve developed an eye for this kind of thing over the years.” Jefferson explained as he helped her into the other shoe.

“Also helps, he keeps the common sizes on rails ready to bring in for viewings.” Rumald interjected after sipping some of his coffee.

Jefferson gave Rumald a pointed look, saying. “Still have to have an eye for size.”

“They’re perfect.” Belle declared to them, pressing the layers of her dress down to see her feet in the blue sequin heels.

“Put the dress and heels to one side, Jefferson, and Miss French can try another one.” Rumald instructed from the couch, crossing his legs over one another to rest his coffee mug into the crook of his lap.

She straightened from looking at her shoes and frowned at him. “Try on another?”

“It’s best to have another option, in case something happens on the day.” Rumald clarified to her.

Seeing his reasoning, Belle smiled at both of them before heading back through the doorway to the changing room. Jefferson headed through the doorway behind her, glancing back at Rumald as he disappeared out of sight. Rumald rubbed a hand over his mouth, still astounded with how beautiful she had looked in the blue dress. Breathing out noisily, not sure he could endure another dress like that one, Rumald drank the rest of his coffee and uncrossed his legs to put the mug onto coffee table. He was settling back into the couch, crossing his legs again, when Jefferson came through the door carrying the dress on a clothes hanger, his finger hooked around the hook of the hanger, and the heels in his other hand.

Jefferson hooked the dress on a hook near the doorway, which led downstairs, and placed the shoes on the nearby shelf, telling Rumald. “These aren’t cheap.”

“Price doesn’t matter.” Rumald commented finding a ball of Styrofoam stuck to the bottom of his pants leg and picked it off.

“You sure she can afford more than one dress?” Jefferson questioned coming over to the couch as Rumald unfolded his legs to check the bottom of his pants legs, finding more balls stuck to his pants.

Rumald swept his hand down his pants legs in turn, brushing off the Styrofoam balls, as he said. “You don’t need to worry about money. I’m paying.”

Jefferson dropped onto the couch beside Rumald. “You? Paying for her dresses?”

“She needs a dress.” Rumald threw his hand aimlessly in Belle’s direction, annoyed with himself for checking his pants before leaving the shop.

“Maybe it’s old age making you soft.” Jefferson remarked.

Rumald raised his eyebrows at Jefferson comments and slowly turned his head from looking at his pants to look at Jefferson. Playing coy, Jefferson had averted his gaze elsewhere, avoiding the glare Rumald was giving him.

“She can’t dance in a house dress.” Rumald defended himself, returning his scrutinising gaze to his pants legs.

“Probably still wow the judges in a house dress.” Jefferson commented sitting back into the couch.

Needing to move, Rumald jumped up from the couch giving his waistcoat a tug and walked around the couch to go to men’s attire. He perused through the selection of tail suits. Flicking through each one, Rumald was not one bit interested in them, but needed something to do with himself.

“Do you need anything?” Jefferson inquired over his shoulder, remaining on the couch.

“No.” Rumald’s shoulders dropped, when he answered Jefferson’s question, feeling stupid for looking through the rail.

Jefferson eyed him from the couch. “Are you sure? You look like, you’ve put on a few pounds.”

“No, I haven’t.” Rumald refused to accept Jefferson’s observation, holding his suit jacket open to look down at his waist.

“I could be wrong.” Jefferson surmised turning back to face the doorway. “I doubt it, but I could be.”

Rumald marched back to the couch to tell Jefferson he was wrong. However, when he saw Belle come through the doorway, appearing to him as an angel dressed in gold, Rumald stumbled two or three steps and grabbed onto the couch to stop himself from falling flat onto his face. He could not take his eyes off of her. Even with her looking alarmed at Rumald nearly falling over, Belle was still stunning. Rumald edged himself round the couch and sat onto the arm of the couch, gobsmacked, as he took in the sight of her.

“Wow!” Was the only thing Jefferson could say.

“It’s not too much?” Belle asked them, smoothing her hands down the body of the dress.

Rumald could not help his thoughts as his eyes followed her hands, wishing they were his hands on her body. She twirled around in her dress and Rumald’s eyebrows rose up his forehead, losing all ability to speak or think at the sight of her. Belle was absolutely, undeniably, unquestionably the most beautiful woman Rumald had ever seen in his whole life.

“Not too much at all.” Jefferson managed to mutter and said to Rumald. “Is it?”

“No.” Rumald replied.

Belle stopped twirling to say to Jefferson. “Do you have heels to go with this dress?”

“Yes.” Jefferson said with a nod of his head, staying sat on the couch.

Looking between the two of them, Belle frowned at them. “What’s wrong?”

“Nothing.” They said together and then looked at each other.

Jefferson launched himself up from the couch, remembering the heels. “I’ll go get them.”

As Jefferson walked out of the room, massaging his brow, Belle floated across the room to Rumald, bouncing to a stop in front of him, asking. “What about this dress?”

“Beautiful.” He muttered at her, staring at her face as she angled her head to take in her dress.

She raised her head at his response to meet his gaze, saying. “It’s absolutely beautiful. The sequins… The flare… It’s exquisite.”

“I was talking about you.” Rumald admitted to her.

Her breasts shook with the shuddering breath she took at Rumald’s confession. Rumald held her gaze and kept himself from launching himself at her his hands holding onto the edge of the arm of the couch. He hated himself. Hated the promise he had made to himself. Hated the poor excuse he had given himself, so he could be a coward like he had been all of his life.

Jefferson came back into the room. “These should go with that dress.”

Lifting her dress, Belle went to meet Jefferson halfway and supported herself with a hand on a nearby chair, all the while looking back at Rumald. Releasing a very slow, deliberate breath, Rumald stood from the arm of the couch, pulling his waistcoat down underneath his suit jacket. Belle switched her feet with Jefferson, gaining height wearing the heel, and glimpsed over her shoulder at Rumald.

“There, perfect.” Jefferson commented as he stood up.

Whipping her head back to Jefferson, Belle smiled at him. “This dress is amazing, Jefferson. Do you really make all of these dresses yourself?”

“The blue one” Jefferson pointed to her earlier selection on the other side of the room. “was actually made by my daughter, Grace.” He smiled as he revealed the seamstress.

“I love it.” Belle placed her hands on the gold dress, feeling the material under her hands. “But I love this gold dress more.”

“This is mine.” Jefferson grinned at her.

Rumald idled over to them and seized the opportunity to place his hand onto Belle’s bare upper back, causing her to jump at the touch, as he said. “Seeing as you’ve found two dresses you like. Why don’t you get changed back into your clothes and we can look at jewellery?”

“Jewellery?” She retorted back to him.

“Course.” He slightly bowed his head to her. “A beautiful woman needs accessories. Isn’t that right, Jefferson?”

Jefferson nodded his head, turning to leave the room again, saying over his shoulder. “Especially if he’s paying.”

“This is too much, Mr Gold.” Belle said to him, lifting her dress to turn and face him.

“Not at all.” He said letting his fingers trail off her back, feeling a shiver run through her before he lost contact with her.

Belle skirted closer to him, pushing her skirt into the front of his legs. “Seriously, it’s too much. I can’t expect you to pay for dresses, shoes and jewellery.”

Rumald pouted his lips, faking he was thinking about it, and shook his head at her, saying. “No, I don’t think it’s too much.” He inclined himself into her, their noses nearly touching. “If anything, it isn’t enough.”

“I…” She stuttered as Rumald reclined himself away from her.

He shrugged his shoulders at her. “It’s only money, dearie. I’ll just make some more.”

“This makes it look like, I’m only interested in you for your money.” Belle disclosed, lifting her arms to drop at her sides again.

“Are you?” Rumald asked her, fascinated to hear her reply.

“No, I’m not.” She sounded irritated by his question.

Smirking, he leaned into her again, studying her eyes, bringing their noses a hairbreadth away from one another, posing the question to her. “Why are you interested then?”

Rumald liked she held her ground, maintaining the distance between them, while she mulled over her answer to his question. Her brow flexed with her musings. He lifted an eyebrow at her, amazed she was taking so long to produce an answer to his question. Belle’s eyes were fixed solely on his eyes, refusing to look anywhere but into his eyes as she considered her response. A smirk grew across Rumald’s face, seeing she was inner debate with herself, over what exactly was her interest in Rumald. He noticed as they stood there, a pink tinge was creeping up her neck to her cheeks and though he wondered whether the colour was creep downwards, he remained the gentleman, waiting for her answer.

They both jumped back from one another at hearing Rumald’s phone ring. Backing away from Belle, Rumald held open his suit jacket and delved his hand into his inner pocket, bringing his phone out to see it was Dove calling him. Quickly answering, Rumald wandered away from Belle and held the phone to his ear.

“Dove.” He greeted.

“It’s taken care of, sir.” Dove told him.

Rumald angled himself to see Belle, who was bracing herself onto the back of a chair. “Where is it?”

“They’re dropping it now.” Dove informed him. “Keys will be under the seat.”

“Good. Thank you, Dove.” Rumald ended the call and put his phone back into the inside pocket of his suit jacket, turning round as Jefferson came into the room with a tray in his hands.

“I’ve just picked out a few pieces.” Jefferson put the tray down onto the coffee table. “I think a few of these will go with either dress.” He said gesturing for Belle to have a look for herself.

Belle lifted her dress and moved round the chair to look down at the selection. Interested, Rumald sauntered over to take a look for himself, bending at his waist, with a quick glance at Belle. She caught his glance. Smiling, Rumald titled his head looking at the display of necklaces and earrings. He felt a hand on his back and twisted to look at her as Belle bent by him to point at one of the selections.

“This one.” She said standing up straight again.

Rumald eyed her selection and agreed with her, unbending himself to stand up next to her, saying. “Looks good to me.”

“Okay.” Jefferson picked up Belle’s selection, taking it to the shelf where he had placed her heels earlier.

“I’m going to get changed.” She muttered walking away from him, hiking up her dress from her feet.

Watching her leave the room, Rumald slipped his hands into his pants pockets, smiling at her retreating form. A thought of doubt crept its way into the back of his mind, causing him to lose his smile, speculating why she could not answer his question. If he was right and she had feelings for him, then why could she not answer him. Rumald pressed his brow down over his eyes, letting his gaze wander from the doorway, as he sorted through the possible reasons. Perhaps, Belle had never given it much thought, never spending time to understand what she was feeling for him. She was, of course, engaged. She should not have feelings for another man apart from her fiancé. ‘ _That’s what it is.’_ , Rumald told him, lifting his gaze from the selection of jewellery on the coffee table.

“You like her.” Jefferson voiced from the other side of the room.

Rumald raised his eyes to look at Jefferson. “What?”

“I take it she doesn’t know?” Jefferson guessed, crossing the room to join Rumald in the middle of the sitting area.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.” Rumald dismissed Jefferson’s guess, projecting a look of indifference.

“Whatever you say, Rumald.” Jefferson gestured to the things they had put to one side. “I’ll go bag and box these things up for her.” And left Rumald along in the sitting area, taking the items with him as Jefferson left the room.

Rumald pulled his hands out of his pants pockets and ran the fingers of his right hand through his hair, whilst he sat down into the chair behind him. Old insecurities were digging themselves up. A voice from the darker side of him, kept telling him he was unlovable and no one would ever want him. This was why she did not answer him. Belle did not care for him. She would never care for him. No one ever cared about him, using him only to get what they wanted and threw him away when he was no longer useful. Rumald knew this. It was true, it was always what happened to him. People came and went in his life, none of them wanting to stay with him. Even Rumald’s own son only wanted him, when it suited Neal, coming and going from Rumald’s life. He was always alone.

“You okay?” Belle asked him, laying her hand on his shoulder.

Rumald yanked his head up to look at her, surprised to find her crouched down beside him. Looking round, he tried to see how she had approached him without him hearing her. Her hand rubbed at his back, bringing his attention to her beside him, soothing the tension from his body.

“You okay?” She repeated her question to him.

“Yeah.” Rumald said quietly in reply.

Her hand remained on his back, rubbing back and forth, as she said. “You looked like you were in your own little world then.”

“Something like that.” He told her, wiping a hand down his face.

Belle’s hand stilled on his back, which caused Rumald to look to Belle as she said to him. “You, by the way.”

“Me, what?” Rumald was confused.

“I’m interested in you for you.” She showed him a small smile. “Nothing else, just you.”

If this had been the movies, Rumald would have launched himself at her, clasping her face between his hands, kissing her soundly on the lips. He would have kissed her like she never been kissed before, taking her breath away. There would have been flamboyant show of affection for one another, releasing all the pent up feelings they had been harbouring for one another. Instead, Rumald let himself smile at her, while his darker thoughts retreated from his mind. They stayed like that, looking at one another, smiling. He was happy with her answer, needing just that simple answer to make him feel better about himself.


	24. Chapter 24

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Rumald has a surprise for Belle.

It had been early afternoon, when they had gotten back into Storybrooke and Rumald had parked his car at the front of his shop. Rumald had offered to take Belle home after practise, so they could leave her dress and such in the trunk of his car. She had thanked him and left him to go to the library, showing him a smile he was sure she only reserved for him. He had lingered by his car, waiting for her to enter the library, and had headed inside of his shop when she was gone. His smile had stayed on his face, thinking of nothing but of her small confession to him. Even when Dove had told him the other package had been damaged, when he had entered the back room of the shop, Rumald had simply waved it off and had told Dove to deal with it. He was not going to let anything ruin his mood.

Killing some time by reading his newspaper from earlier and fixing a pocket watch, which had been dropped off the week before, Rumald had looked up in time to see had half an hour before their practise. He smiled thinking of her. Hopping off of his stool, Rumald crossed to his overcoat with a spring in his step and claimed his overcoat, putting it on as he strolled through into the front of the shop. Rumald entered, finding Dove bent down behind the main counter, dusting the display underneath the cash register.

“I’m heading out, Dove.” Rumald informed him as he meandered his way through the front of the shop to the shop door.

“Okay, sir.” Dove said, peeking his head over the counter to see Rumald leave the shop.

Rumald pulled the door shut behind him and went to his car, rounding the car to open the trunk. Carefully lifting the ends of her two dress bags, Rumald grabbed his bag from underneath them and laid the dress bags back down to shut his trunk. Still with Belle on his mind, he looked over to the library, stood at the back of his car. Starting towards the library, Rumald decided to go to the library and see if she was ready to leave.

As he passed by the windows, Rumald tried to peer inside but could not see anything, through the wall of books onto the other side. Following the wall of the building, Rumald came to the door of the library and reached out for the door handle, and tugged it to open it. The door refused to open, clattering against the other door and its frame. Puzzled, Rumald tried it again and looked around the doorway. He let go of the door handle and leaned into the door, covering the side of his face, as he peeked through the gap of the blind. The inside of the library was in darkness, telling Rumald, Belle must have already left for the dance studio.

He shrugged his shoulders at himself, pivoting away from the door to head to the intersection. Setting himself a fast pace, Rumald quickly walked to the end of Main Street and crossed the street to the dance studio. Hastily, he entered the dance studio, finding Belle, Mal and Regina chatting in the reception.

“Oh, Rumald!” Regina called to him, seeing him enter. “Belle was just telling us about your shopping trip this morning.”

Belle twisted to see him, meeting him with a smile, as Rumald approached them, saying. “Was she now.”

“I could lose myself for days in Jefferson’s shop.” Mal confessed to them.

“I know what you mean.” Belle said to Mal.

Regina winked at Rumald as she spoke to Belle. “Did you manage to decide between the blue or the gold dress?”

Belle hooked her thumb at Rumald, saying. “Mr Gold said it was best to have two choices.”

“Remind me to take you with me, next time I want to go dress shopping.” Mal grinned at Rumald.

Rumald rolled his eyes and shook his head at them, moving by Regina, as he told them. “I’m going to head upstairs and let you girls chat.”

They did not feel the loss of him from their conversation, chatting and asking question, whilst Rumald climbed the stairs to the studio above. On the small landing to the next set of the stairs, Rumald glanced back, adoring the smile Belle was showing Regina and Mal as she described the heels Jefferson had picked out for her. She was holding up her two forefingers, describing the height of one of her heels, when her eyes darted up from Mal to him on the stairs. Her smile widened, revealing her dimples to him. Contented, he breathed out, revealing half a smile to her, while his heart ached for her inside of his chest. ‘ _So beautiful.’_ , he thought, whilst she returned her gaze to Regina and Mal.

He caught Regina glancing over her shoulder at him. Something about the way she looked at him, gave Rumald a bad feeling in his gut. Squinting his eyes at her, Rumald began to climb the next set of stairs as Regina made an excuse to Belle and Mal, leaving them discussing jewellery. He could hear her heels on the stairs behind him. Dropping his bag onto the floor, Rumald removed his overcoat and then his suit jacket, folding each one in turn to place on top of his bag.

“I wanted to talk to you.” Regina said to him, coming up behind him.

Turning to face her, Rumald pulled at the knot in his tie, saying. “Yes?”

“My mother is going to be at the competition.” She did not waste time getting to her point, bluntly hitting him with the news.

Rumald yanked his tie out from his collar and rolled it between his hands, keeping his gaze on the silk tie in his hands. The idea of seeing her after so long did not sit well with Rumald. Cora had been the first woman he had genuinely given himself, heart and soul, and she had ripped his heart from his chest and thrown it away like it was nothing. It was not so much her he hated. No, Rumald hated himself. He detested how he had let himself be crushed by her, even though, he knew exactly what her plan was all along. Cora ate men, used and threw them away when they were no longer of use. And he had let himself fall under her spell, becoming another notch on her bedpost like so many before and after him.

“You might not even see her.” Regina tried to comfort him, by reaching out to squeeze his arm.

“I’ll be fine.” His voice was low, raw with the anger that swelled inside of him.

She took a step closer to him, moving her hand from his arm to his back, saying. “I’ll be there too, so I can run interference, if you need me to.”

“No need.” Rumald said dropping the rolled up tie to sit on top of his suit jacket, uncaring it had unravelled when it landed. “I’m not going to hide from her.”

“Good.” Regina grabbed his left forearm to give his arm a reassuring squeeze.

He did not know, how to feel about Regina’s offer of reassurance. The small squeeze of his arm and the hand on his back made him feel weak. He was a man that people should have feared. They should never feel sorry for him. They should not offer him comfort, because there was a chance he might run into his ex. Rumald did not warrant such warm feelings, not with everything he had done in the past. However, Rumald could not help basting himself in her offer of support, feeling the heartfelt friendship she presented to him.

Rumald placed his hand over Regina’s on his arm, giving her a small smile as he said. “I can handle your mother.”

She returned his smile, patting his back where she had placed her hand earlier, and backed away from him, slipping her hands from him, saying. “You ready, old man?”

He raised an eyebrow to her. “Old man?”

“You are to me.” Regina chuckled at him before turning to go to the sound system.

Rumald chose not to argue with her, choosing to widen out his collar as he strolled to the middle of the room. Hearing someone on the stairs, he angled himself to see Belle entering the room, smiling at him as she went to where he had left his own things and placed her handbag and coat next to his.

“Ah, Miss French,” Regina greeted Belle with her back to them, hunched over the sound system as she selected some random music to play. “Ready?”

“Yep.” Belle replied eagerly.

Regina came over to them, saying to Belle. “Now, you’ve got an idea of how to Waltz, we need to hone the steps you already know and add in a little flare.”

Holding his hand out to Belle, he smiled when she took his hand without hesitation, taking up her dance position with him. Her attention was on Regina, listening to explain what the judges would be looking for, while they were dancing the waltz. Rumald was not listening. He knew what they were after and did not care about it. All that was on his mind, was this beauty before him and wanting to spend every waking moment with her.

Years ago, all he thought about was winning the next competition, getting in as much practise, breathing and eating dance. The years he had been away had mellowed his appetite for winning. Now, he was just savouring every moment he got to dance with Belle, loving it was just him and her as they danced together. The world had never faded away, when he had danced with Cora, the focus on winning and keeping the judges eye. With Belle, it was different. It was all about her, moving as one, having a connection he never thought he would share with anyone.

“Are you ready, Rumald?” Regina touched his shoulder, bringing him out of his thoughts.

“Yep.” He said hastily, embarrassed to find them both staring at him.

Regina gave him a questioning look, while she said to him. “Streamline waltzing.”

“Okay.” Rumald adjusted his hold on Belle, flexing his fingers to re-clasped her hand.

“It’s literally dancing the waltz in a straight line, Miss French. Just remember your bob on the first step.” Regina said to Belle, adjusting where Belle’s hand was placed on Rumald’s shoulder. “And remember, try to be smooth in your movements. It’s what the judges will be looking for.”

“It’s the same as the box step. I’ll start on my left.” Rumald divulged to her, leading her to step backwards, whilst Regina stepped away from them to give them room.

“Strange.” Belle revealed to him, while they took another step, travelling in a straight line.

Regina called to Belle. “Head, Miss French.”

Belle head immediately corrected, directing her gaze over Rumald’s shoulder, while they went through the steps again. They turned and travelled along the length of the room, practicing the streamline step. After completing a lap of the room, Rumald threw in a twirl, trying to catch Belle off guard, but took it with ease, falling back into step with him without giggling. His eyebrows twitched up his forehead, pleasantly surprised she was keeping her giggles under control.

“Rumald, can you switch direction and do it backwards, please?” Regina ordered from the middle of the room.

Rocking on their last step, Rumald changed their direction, guiding Belle to step into him. Her eyebrows rose partly in the change, seamlessly moving with him. Reaching the corner of the room, instead of just turning and carrying on the waltz, Rumald switch them into a box step, leisurely taking the corner to change back into the backwards streamline step. From the corner of his eye, he could see the thin line of a smile on her face, enjoying the change.

Regina called to them. “Okay, that’s an easy one out of the way. Let’s do some twinkles.”

“Twinkles?” Belle queried with a chuckle, moving with Rumald back into the middle of the room.

“Don’t.” Regina shook her head at her. “Such a stupid name.”

“Just think twinkle toes.” Rumald smirked as he said it.

Regina rolled her eyes. “I’ll twinkle toes you in a minute.”

“Now, now.” Rumald teased inclining his head to Regina, giving her a cheeky look.

“The simple twinkle,” Regina ignored him and his look, directing herself to Belle as she explained. “Begins as box step. So you’ll step back, to the side, bring your feet together, but…” Regina gestured down to her feet. “You’ll keep your upper body facing Rumald, but your feet turn to point in the direction you will move in and then you’ll step with your left after turning your body into a promenade. Then end the stepping with your right and bringing your left to meet your right.”

Belle’s forehead did not know whether to raise her eyebrows or scrunch her brow at Regina. “That’s just…”

“Just try and do your best.” Regina smiled reassuringly at Belle, placing her hand on Belle’s nearest shoulder.

“You’ll be fine.” Rumald told her, strengthening his frame.

While Regina stepped back again, giving them space, Rumald led Belle through the steps, slowing the pace for the turn, giving her time, and finished the steps with a smile on his face. She looked dazed by the end of the steps, but Rumald did not give her time to think about it, starting the steps again, slowing for the turn and finishing the steps. Again, before she could think about it, Rumald took her through the steps again, however he did not slow down for the turn and took her straight through to finish the steps.

“Nicely done, Miss French.” Regina commented, clapping her hands a few times.

Belle crooked her head to see Regina, smiling at Regina, who called out to Belle. “Head!”

Rumald held back his smirk as Belle snapped her head back into position, going through the steps again with Rumald.

As it got darker outside of the studio window, they progressed quickly through the steps, adding steps Belle had learnt previous, mixing the two sets of steps together. Though Regina called out steps for them to perform, Rumald added in his own twists and turns, keeping Belle very much on her toes. He added in a twirl and dipped her when he caught her, trying to encourage a giggle out of her, but smiled down at her, while she held her pose keeping emotion from her face. Sweeping her back up and into the waltz, Rumald was very impressed with her and was conjuring up something else, when the music stopped.

They rocked to a stop together, while Regina said. “It’s nearly eleven. You two need to rest.”

“It is?” Belle angled herself to see the clock in the room.

Rumald unbuttoned his waistcoat, pulling a face at the icky feel of his shirt clinging to his body, saying. “Doesn’t feel that late.”

“If you two want to stay and practise, be my guest.” Regina welcomed them, gesturing with her hand to the studio. “But some of us, normal people, want to go home and sleep.”

“I didn’t say that.” Rumald swivelled round on the spot and went to his bag, liking the idea of going home and sleeping.

He removed his waistcoat as Regina praised Belle. “You were exceptional tonight, Miss French. You’ve learnt a lot this week.”

“Thank you.” Belle blushed at Regina’s kind words.

“No matter what happens on Saturday. You should be really proud of yourself and…” Regina edged closer to Belle. “If you’re interested and continuing your lessons, I’ll be more than happy to keep teaching you. You’re a really good dancer.” She said, encouraging Belle.

Rumald glimpsed over at them as he unbuttoned his shirt, pulling it out of his pants as he undid the buttons, listening to Belle say. “I’ll give it some thought.”

“I’m serious, Miss French.” Regina touched Belle’s arm.

Belle smiled at Regina, whilst Rumald stripped his shirt from his arms, saying to Regina. “It’ll have to wait until after the wedding.”

“Right…” Regina turned her head to look at Rumald, who was crouched down at his bag retrieving his towel to wipe himself. “We’ll have to see then. Anyway,” Regina backed away from Belle, saying to both of them. “If I don’t see you before you leave, goodnight to you both.”

“Goodnight.” Belle said cheerfully.

Rumald twisted his head to see Regina pass by behind him. “Night, Regina.”

Regina gave him a small wave and left the room, slowly disappearing as she descended the stairs. Digging in his bag, Rumald found his deodorant a squirted some under either arm and across his chest, spraying a little longer over his chest. He threw the can into his bag and pulled his folded shirt out, standing up to shake out his shirt.

“I’ve never thou…” Belle stopped talking.

Curious, Rumald looked at her through the mirror to see her staring at him and turned his head to look at her. Her eyes were roaming over him, while he shook out his shirt and then fed his arm into one of the sleeves.

“Miss French?” He said her name to gain her attention.

Belle swallowed and started to say. “I’ve never thought of carrying this on after the wedding.”

“Why not?” Rumald inquired as he reached behind himself to catch his shirt, feeding his other arm into the shirt.

“I just… I didn’t want to look stupid on my wedding day.” She said approaching him as Rumald secured his cuffs with his cufflinks, his shirt still open revealing his chest.

Rumald tugged at his right sleeve, telling her. “I doubt you could ever look stupid, Miss French.”

“Isn’t it about time, you called me by my name?” Belle asked him.

“What?” Rumald dropped his hands down to his sides, caught off guard by the change of conversation.

“You’re not my teacher anymore.” She stated to him, following the trail of the buttons of his shirt to find the end of them.

He breathed in heavily and then raised his eyebrows, feeling his shirt move, and looked down to see her buttoning his shirt. Lifting his gaze from her hands to her face, Belle had her head bent so he could not see her eyes, focusing herself on the task of buttoning his shirt. He swallowed, not sure why he was finding it very intimate to have her button his shirt. Her fingers were warm through the thin cotton of his shirt, brushing up against him as she moved to the next button in the line. Rumald dropped his gaze to her hands, watching her feed each button through the opposite button hole, slowly progressing up his shirt.

Reaching the last two buttons of his shirt before his collar, Belle stopped and splayed her hands on his chest, and smoothed the wrinkles and ruffles out of his shirt, sliding her hands achingly slow down his chest. Rumald sucked in a breath at her touch, especially when her fingers danced across the edge of his sides, teasing him with her delightfully touch.

“Things don’t need to be so formal now.” Belle brought her gaze up to meet his eyes.

Rumald drew in a breath and said. “No, they don’t.”

She smiled at him and drew her lower lip into her mouth, biting down hard into plump lip. Taking in a quiet shuddering breath, Rumald did his best to appear impartial to her, refusing to let her see the affect she had over him. Her lip slowly escaped the torture of her teeth. The soft pliable lip reddened with the rush of blood to her lip. His hand itched to reach out of her, wanting to lightly brush his thumb over the lip, teasing her with the slightest of touches.

Knowing Regina would have been waiting for them, Rumald sucked in his stomach and tucked in the tails of his shirt, saying to her. “I better get you home,” She raised her eyebrows at him, waiting for his usual ‘Miss French’, but instead said. “Belle.”

Belle grinned revealing more of her teeth to him as she smiled. Her smile was infectious and he smiled stupidly at her, showing his crooked teeth to her. Rumald crouched down to his bag, maintaining eye contact with her through the mirror, and packed his things into his bag, leaving his overcoat out. When he stood to put on his overcoat, Belle stepped around him, gliding her hand over his back, and bent at her waist to collect her handbag and coat. Leaning back on his heels, Rumald enjoyed the view of her bent over, aware she was looking at his reflection in the mirror. She stood to face him, raising her eyebrow at him, while he straightened his overcoat as he met her quizzical look, unashamed.

He stooped and picked up his bag, waving his hand in the direction of the door to her, inviting her to go first. Without saying anything, Belle accepted his invitation and spun to face the door, and started to walk towards the doorway, glimpsing at him over her shoulder. Rumald followed and placed a gentle hand on her lower back, guiding through the doorway, while he came through behind her. They descended the stairs with her one step ahead of him and Rumald looked down to the reception area to see Regina sat at the reception desk, her legs crossed, looking up at them.

“Could you two be any slower?” Regina jested slipping off the stool, whilst they came down the second flight of stairs.

“I am getting old, dearie.” Rumald jibbed her with her comment from earlier.

Regina mumbled under her breath, leading the way around the reception desk to the door. “Old my ass.”

Belle gave Rumald a questioning look, but he only smiled at her. Regina opened the door to the dance studio and held it open to them, jangling her keys in her hand as she did it. Skipping a step, allowing Belle to go ahead of him, Rumald followed her again through the door, giving Regina a wink whilst he exited the dance studio. Regina also gave him a questioning look, moving to let the door close, so she could lock it.

Putting a few steps between them, Belle put on her coat, glancing back to see Regina walking in the other direction to them. “Will she be alright?”

“Yeah, she’ll be fine.” Rumald twisted his head to look after Regina. “The parking lot is just around that corner.” He said, though he still watched until Regina had taken the corner.

Belle glanced to see where Regina had gone, while she slid her arm around Rumald’s arm, walking in time with him to the kerb. They stepped down off the kerb into the road and were crossing, when the lights from Regina’s car caught their attention and they both looked, observing her car turn away from them and drive away. Rumald was the first to look away, happy knowing Regina was on her way home safely.

As they stepped onto the other sidewalk and walked to the corner to Main Street, Belle asked. “So, what will you be wearing on Saturday?”

“Me?” He was dazed by her question for a second and then answered. “Tails.”

“A tail suit?” She exclaimed in excitement.

Rumald gave her a curious look, whilst they turned the corner together, saying. “It’s the normal attire for the man during the Waltz.”

“I can’t wait to see it.” Belle disclosed to him with her arm briefly tightening around his arm.

He chuckled at her reaction. “I wouldn’t get that excited about it. It’s only a suit.”

“And you look so damn good in one.” She mumbled under her breath, so quiet he nearly did not hear it, which he probably was not meant to.

“That reminds me,” Rumald decided not to draw attention to her comment, though he grinned at it all the same. “I’ve got to dig it out from my wardrobe and drop it to the dry cleaners.”

“Will they have it done in time?” Belle questioned him.

He eyed her beside him, gesturing to himself. “For me, they’ll get it done in time.”

She rolled her eyes at him. “I forgot, you’re the town monster.”

“Well… Yes, but in this case, I own the dry cleaners.” Rumald explained to her. “So, my dry cleaning is always priority.”

Belle giggled at him. “That helps.”

Twisting to look down the street behind him, Rumald guided her to the edge of the sidewalk and aided her in taking the step off the kerb onto the road, crossing Main Street just before the intersection. There was a small cry of Belle from Grannies and they both looked to see Ruby in an upstairs window, waving down at her friend. Belle waved back at her, smiling at her friend, while Rumald helped her up onto the sidewalk.

“I never see you much in Grannies.” She stated to him.

His eyebrows raised at her statement. “I try not to indulge myself too much.”

“I cannot go a day without Grannies.” Belle confessed to him and hurriedly added. “Her hamburgers are too die for.”

“They are quite nice.” He agreed with her.

“Oh… And her pecan pie.” She was losing herself to her memory of the pie, moaning in pleasure.

Rumald was very amused by antics, twisting his upper body to get a better look at her face as she licked her lips at the thought of the pie. Her face was of pure bliss, closing her eyes to picture the pecan pie. He chuckled and shook his head at her.

“I’ll have to grab a slice next time I’m in Grannies.” Rumald said to her as they stepped down off the kerb into the road, crossing the road for the last time that evening.

“Oh, you do! With a hot cup of coffee too!” She grabbed at his arm, begging him to do as she had suggested.

“I will.” He assured her with a smile.

They did not miss a step when they stepped onto the sidewalk and strolled along the shop fronts until they came to where Rumald had parked his car, in front of his own shop. He could not help glancing at his shop, seeing all the lights were off inside and the sign was flipped to ‘closed’. Staying with Belle, Rumald led her to the passenger door and opened it for her, roaming his gaze over the top of his car. She touched the top of his hand and dropped in the car, while Rumald snapped his gaze to their hands. Retracting her hand back, Belle smiled up at him, keeping herself clear of the door as he pushed it shut. He left her side of the car, trooping round the front of his car to his car door, gave the shop another look and got into the car putting his bag onto the backseat.

It did not take long for Rumald to drive from his shop to Belle’s house, rolling to a stop at the end of her drive. He put the car into park and turned off the ignition, and pocketed his keys getting out of the car. Standing to his full height outside of the car, Rumald gave his car door a gentle shove shut, looking at the car sat in darkness on Belle’s drive. Rumald opened his trunk to claim her dress bags, hooking the hooks of the hangers on his fingers, and grabbed the bag with her shoes and jewellery. Awkwardly, he used his hand with the bag to shut the trunk, trying not to catch the bag, and carried her things to her passenger door, which hung open.

“Belle?” He slanted himself to see her still sat inside of his car, illuminated from the light of his car’s interior light.

Belle waved her hand in a pathetic attempt to point at the car on her drive. “What…?”

“What’s the matter?” Rumald questioned, trying to follow where she was indicating with her hand.

“My car?” She said leaning out of his car to get a better look.

Rumald straightened his back, hiding his smirk from her, as he said. “I thought you said, you’d sold your car.”

“I did.” Belle emerged from his car, steadying herself with a hand on the passenger door.

“Maybe Gaston bought it back for you?” He suggested to her as she wandered to the car on the drive, taking a closer look at it.

“He couldn’t of, we haven’t got any money left.” She said after reading the number plate.

Slowly coming up behind her, where she stood taking in the sight of her car, Rumald proposed. “Maybe your father, did it?”

Belle shook her head forcefully, while Rumald headed to the path to her front door, saying. “He couldn’t of either.”

When he reached the front door, standing in front of the steps to her door, Rumald turned to watch her as she inspected the car, following down the side of the car, finding marks and dents in her car. Belle stood confused, looking at her car on her driveway. Her body jolted with a thought and she whipped round to look at him and then at her car. She did this again, snapping her attention between Rumald and her car.

Marching the short distance from the driveway to the path to her front door, Belle pointed her finger at her car, demanding an answer from him. “Did you do this? Did you buy my car back?”

“Me?” Rumald fake his shock at her question, gaping his mouth at her.

“You bought my car back, didn’t you?” She pushed him to answer her.

“Why would I do something like that?” He requested, dismissing her accusation with a shake of his head. “I think you forget, who’re dealing with, dearie.”

Belle narrowed her eyes at him, pointing her finger at him. “You did this. I know you did.”

Angling his head away from her, squinting his gaze at her, Rumald remained aloof as he rejected her claims. “Not me, dearie. Not the sort of thing I would do. Take it, yes. Give it back? I don’t think so.”

“Who else would have done it?” She put to him, waving her arm towards her car.

Rumald was enjoying himself too much as Belle grew more irritated with him not confessing. Letting out an exasperated groan, Belle stalked passed him and up the steps to her front door, unlocking the door to gain entrance to her house. She left the door open, turning the lights on as she entered, going deeper into the living area to toss her handbag onto a nearby chair. Rumald edged his way into the house, unsure where she wanted her things, glancing round for anywhere to put them.

“Just admit it.” Belle told him, kicking off her shoes in the middle of the floor.

Holding the dress bags up, Rumald asked her. “Where do you want these?”

“Anywhere.” She said throwing her hand.

He crossed the room to lay the dress bags over the back of the armchair, where she had dumped her handbag, and put the bag down beside the chair. Turning back to the door, Rumald physically jumped finding Belle blocking his path and getting in his face.

“It’s you.” Belle accused with her finger in his face. “I know it’s you.”

“Yes, it was me.” He gave in, grinning at her.

“Why? Why did you do this for me?” She begged an answer from him.

His grin was quickly replaced by a very solemn look. “Because…” Rumald paused and lifted his hand to brush the backs of his fingers against her cheek, telling her. “I care about you… A lot more than I probably should.”

Belle remained stood in front of him, her mouth formed into a perfect ‘O’ with no other expression on her face. Considering her face, he was not sure, whether she was happy with his omission or not. The longer she did not say anything, the more Rumald felt unsure about himself. His hand was still by her face, brushing his fingers lightly over her soft skin, which he felt stupid for leaving there for so long. Deciding he must have been wrong about everything, Rumald took his hand away from her face and dropped his hand down by his side. She caught his hand taking an unsteady step forward and placed his hand against her face, pressing her hand into the back of his hand. Twisting his head, uncertain what Belle was doing, Rumald brushed his thumb against the skin of her cheek, taking advantage of the chance to touch her. Her face nuzzled into his touch, peering at him from under hooded eyes. Belle stroked her thumb across the back of his hand, returning the caress he was giving her cheek. 

“Belle!” Came a call from outside. “What’s this doing here?”

Belle squeezed her eyes shut, pressing his hand firmly into her cheek, while Rumald moved his gaze to the open front door. Letting go of his hand, Belle backed away from his touch and turned to go to the front door. Rumald swallowed hard. She went through the open doorway and Rumald began to follow, tugging hard at the lapels of his overcoat.

“Belle, why’s your car here?” Gaston asked as Rumald appeared from the house, finding Belle stood on the top step.

“I got it back.” She said to him, crossing her arms across her chest.

Rumald placed his hands gently on her shoulders, urging her to move aside to allow him by, and went down the steps, saying. “Miss French helped me out with a deal. To repay her, I got her car back for her.”

“She did?” Gaston raised a cynical eyebrow at them.

“Yes.” Rumald shifted where he stood to face Belle and said. “Goodnight, Miss French.”

“Goodnight, Mr Gold.” She returned to him.

Bowing his head slightly to her, Rumald showed her a smile only she could see and turned to walk away. He kept himself from looking back, staying focus on his car, while Gaston questioned Belle about the deal she had helped Rumald with. It was not until he had got to his driver’s door did Rumald allow himself to look over his car to her, forced to watch them enter the house together. The front door was closing as Rumald opened his car door and climbed into his car, while Belle ducked her head into the gap, between the door and the doorframe, to look at him. He started his car, while the interior light dimmed, waiting until Belle had finally closed the front door.


	25. Chapter 25

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Gaston has been putting doubts into Belle's head.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Songs:  
> The Weeknd – Earned It

Driving back to Storybrooke from Ellsworth, Rumald rubbed at the ache at the back of his neck, which he had gotten from sitting in Ellsworth auction house. He had bid on a couple of items, some furniture he could quickly flip and some trinkets he could clean and sell later, but had been quite bored with the selection. There was nothing that peaked his interest, wanting to add it to his vast collection at home. The only thing, which had peaked his interest that morning, was a message from Belle, asking where the keys were for her car. There was nothing to read into her text. It had been a simple message, one line: ‘where are the keys to my car?’. Reading her text, sat waiting in the parking lot outside of the auction house, was the only time Rumald had smiled that morning. He had replied with the location, keeping the message simple like her own, not adding anything, which anyone could read further into.

All Rumald knew as he slowed for the bend in the road, he was looking forward to getting to practise, only so he could see her. Belle had been on his mind as always, plaguing his thoughts when he should have been studying his catalogue and waiting for the lots he had circled in his book. He had caught himself a couple of times, staring down at his hand, examining his hand for any traces of her.

Easily, his Cadillac glided around another bend and as his car came out of the bend, Rumald could see streetlights in the distance. The forest became less dense as Rumald approached the border into Storybrooke. He had taken a trail, avoiding the drive through Storybrooke, diverting himself around the outskirts of town through the forest, delivery himself to road that ran along the docks. Slowing his car upon entering Storybrooke, Rumald flicked down his signal and waited for the turning into parking lot, belonging to the dance studio. The car smoothly rocked taking the turn and Rumald parked his car next to Regina’s car, eyeing the black Mercedes sports car as he did.

Rumald opened his door and stepped out of his car, hit with the coldness of the evening as he left the warmth of his car. A shiver threatened to run his spin, but Rumald shrugged it away and turned up the collar of his overcoat, strolling to the rear of his car to open his trunk to retrieve his bag. He shut the trunk and pocketed his free hand into his overcoat, protecting it from the cold, and moseyed his way to the corner of the building, following the exterior to the entrance. Looking through the window as he walked by it, Rumald could see Mal was sat at the reception, typing away at her computer.

Pulling open the glass door to the dance studio, Rumald waltzed into reception and showed Mal half a smile, when she looked up from her computer screen to him. She did not return his smile. Instead, Mal dropped her eyes back to the computer and began typing more furiously at her keyboard. Rumald did not question her as he walked by the reception desk, presuming she was busy. Climbing the stairs, Rumald slowed his paced, hearing Regina and Belle talking in the studio above him.

“I’m just getting really nervous.” Belle shared with Regina.

“That’s understandable with it being your first.” Regina said and went on to confess to Belle. “Hell, I’ve done probably over a hundred of them and I still get nervous.”

“I was watching some clips on YouTube today, trying to prepare myself, but it just made me more nervous.” Belle admitted to Regina.

“Try not to think about it. Just go out there and have fun.” Regina told Belle.

Rumald entered the dance studio as Belle said to Regina, her back to the doorway. “I saw some clips of Rumald and, I’m guessing, your mother.”

“On YouTube?” Regina clarified, her eyebrows raised up her forehead in surprise.

“Yeah.” Belle tipped her head to the side briefly, saying. “There were quite a few of them.”

Announcing his arrival, Rumald dumped his bag onto the floor and started to remove his overcoat, while Belle spun round to see what the noise was, as Rumald said. “Why anyone would want to watch, two ‘has-been’s’, parade themselves around a dancefloor, I will never know.”

“Amazingly, Rumald, there are many dancers, who still look up to you and my mother, and still want to see the magic you two performed.” Regina informed him, gesturing her hand through the air. “Me, included.”

“I couldn’t take my eyes off you both.” Belle admitted, joining in with Regina.

“Enough.” Rumald told them putting his folded coat on his bag, negating the chance to go down memory lane. “Any plans for tonight, Regina?”

Regina waved her hand to indicate Belle, saying. “I think Miss French has a good understanding of the steps. I was going to suggest, we come up with a quick routine. A baseline, if you will.”

“Kind of late in the week to be talking about routines.” Rumald remarked as he removed his suit jacket to fold and put on top of his folded overcoat.

“I know, but it might help with her nerves, if she has something to focus on.” Regina argued for her suggestion.

Rumald squeezed his eyebrows together, mulling over their options, and conceded, while removing his tie from around his neck. “It wouldn’t hurt.”

Regina reached her hand out to touch Belle’s arm, bringing Belle’s attention to Regina, as she said. “Normally, couples would have made up a routine, but we haven’t really had the time. So, what we’ll do tonight, is come up with a combination of steps for the start of your Waltz. Then, hopefully, you’ll feel more comfortable and less nervous, and just have to follow Rumald’s lead.”

“Okay.” Belle sounded unsure, though she agreed.

As Regina left Belle to go to the sound system, Rumald ambled over to Belle, opening out the collar of his shirt, and said to Belle. “Hi.”

She turned her head to him, bringing her gaze to him, and smiled at him. “Hi.”

“Let’s start with the customary bow and curtesy, and getting into position at the beginning of the dance.” Regina instructed, crossing the room to them, oblivious to the way they were gazing at each other.

Rumald shifted his feet to face Belle more, while Regina placed her hands on Belle’s shoulders and put her into the position, explaining what will happen to Belle. “When your number is announced, you’ll walk out onto the dancefloor with Rumald and he’ll do a small parade, or whatever he feels like, before you find a space on the dancefloor.” Moving to stand to one side, Regina waved her hand at Rumald. “Then the music will start. Rumald will bow his head slightly.” Which he did to illustrate. “And you will curtesy.” Regina waved her hand to Belle, who did as she had been instructed, smiling as she did it.

“Rumald will offer his hand to you, as though he has asked you to dance.” Regina said as Rumald extending his arm, offering his hand out to Belle. “Then you’ll take up your dance position.”

Softly, Belle placed her hand into his offered hand and stepped closer to him, sliding her hand from his upper chest onto his shoulder. Rumald breathed in at her touch and adjusted his grip on her hand to gently cradle her delicate hand in his own. She lifted her head, assuming the position to look over his shoulder, smiling as she inclined her head gracefully away from him. Rolling his shoulders, Rumald adjusted his frame and the position of his hand on her back.

Regina circled them, eyeing their frames and position, and said on her second lap of them. “Perfect.”

“Can I suggest we start with a sidestep into a streamline step?” Rumald proposed to Regina.

“Sure.” Regina moved away from them, giving them room.

“Sidestep to my right.” Rumald directed Belle. “Then two steps backwards.”

She did as he had said, moving effortlessly with him as Rumald said. “Then into a box step.”

They performed the box step together with Regina saying. “Sideways streamline?”

“Not a bad idea.” Rumald adjusted his feet to point the direction they were going, telling Belle. “On this step, you look where you’re going. We’re literally going to walk to my right, maintaining our frame, with our feet pointed in the direction we’re going.”

“Okay.” Belle altered the placement of her feet, turning her head to look where they were going, as they did the steps together, bobbing exactly at the same time.

“Then… some box steps?” Regina threw out her suggestion to him.

Changing into the box step, Belle snapped her head back into position and went to step with Rumald, but instead moved the wrong foot and stepped on his foot. Rumald stumbled a step, letting go of Belle at the same time, and caught his balance with Belle grabbing a hold of his shirt.

“Sorry.” Belle apologised, ducking her head into Rumald’s gaze.

“Not the first time.” He echoed his previous statement at her, trying to smile at her, while his lips pressed into a thin line at the pain in his big toe.

Regina came over to them, placing a hand on both their arms, asking Rumald. “You okay?”

“Yeah, I’ll be fine.” Rumald said flexing his toes in his foot.

“Do you want to start from the beginning or carry on?” Regina asked him, removing her hands from them.

Gesturing for Belle to come to him, Rumald said. “We’ll carry on.”

Regina moved away from them again, giving them room, while Belle gave Rumald an apologetic look. He shook her look away, clasping his fingers around her hand and placing his hand on her back. Lifting her chin again, assuming her position, Belle closed her eyes for a second, shaking her head at herself. Rumald could feel her arms tense as they moved, performing a couple of box steps as they travelled the room.

“How about a lean after the box steps?” Regina recommended as she watched them, moving out of their way.

“A lean?” Belle asked, while they completed another box step.

Rumald stopped and explained. “We’ll come to the end of the box step and I’ll support you as you lean your upper body back. Count to four, holding the position and then lean up.”

“Like this?” She leaned back with Rumald supporting her.

“Bit more.” Rumald urged with his eyes going to her chest. “Perfect.”

“Count to four…” Belle said his instruction aloud, silently counting to herself, and leaned up with Rumald helping her.

Regina hovered by them. “When you’re holding that position, Miss French, remember to keep your head in the same position as you do when your dancing.”

“Okay.” Belle nodded her head at the information.

“Then maybe, a backwards streamline.” Rumald said, guiding Belle to follow him.

On the last step of the final streamline, Belle stood on Rumald’s foot again, bumping herself into his chest. They staggered together with Rumald struggling to get his balance. Grasping at Belle’s arms, Rumald stopped himself from stumbling any further and stood up straight, holding her still in front of him.

“I’m sorry.” She told him with her hands on his sides.

“Don’t apologise.” He warned in a small growl.

From the other side of the room to them, Regina said. “Why don’t we start from the beginning?”

Rumald dropped his hold on Belle, sidestepping her to return to the centre of the room. By the time, Belle had caught up with him, Rumald had his hands held up in his frame, waiting for her to take her position with him. She moved into his frame, clasping his hand as she laid her hand on his shoulder. Breathing in noisily through his nose, he counted down from three in his head and started the routine, performing a sidestep into a forward streamline. Belle eyes were pointed over his shoulder, avoiding any chance of their eyes making contact. Her body felt tense under his touch, her nervousness and mistakes making her second guess herself.

They approached where they had gotten earlier in their steps with Rumald guiding her through some backwards streamline steps. Belle became rigid in his arms as they got to the end of the steps. Whilst she danced with him, Rumald became distracted, feeling her insecurity emanated from her.

“Good, good. Better, Miss French.” Regina encouraged. “After the backwards streamline, you could move into the box step.”

Rumald took on Regina’s idea, moving them into the box step from the streamline. Performing the box step for the second time, Rumald angled his head to see Belle’s face, sensing her mind was somewhere else. At this point, Belle miss stepped and stumbled, knocking Rumald off his balance as well. They staggered backwards into the wall of glass with Rumald’s back clunking against the glass. Stopping them from sprawling onto the floor, his hand pressed firmly against the glass, Rumald managed to keep himself and Belle on their feet.

“I’m really sorry!” Belle apologised profusely to him, her hands clutching at his waistcoat.

Struggling to help her and himself, Rumald pressed his back into glass, positioning his feet, so he could grab Belle by her upper arms and steered her into moving a couple of steps away from him. He pushed himself away from the glass, straightening his back whilst he tugged down his waistcoat. Studying her face, he tried to decipher what was distracting her, while Belle held a hand against her forehead, her eyes closed, appalled with herself.

“Regina,” Rumald walked across to Regina, leaving Belle, to say in a quieter voice. “Do you mind leaving us?”

Regina glowered at him. “What?”

“Just give us some time alone.” He nodded his head at Belle behind him.

“Sure.” She agreed, looking at Belle over his shoulder before she left the room.

Rumald was walking his way back to Belle, when he said to Regina at the door. “Can you close the door as well?”

Regina did not answer him, but did as he had requested, giving Belle and him one last look. Shifting on the spot, Rumald faced Belle, angling his head to see her face hidden behind her hand pressed to her face, covering her eyes. He chose to wait, clasping his hands in front of himself, carefully watching her face.

Belle apologised for the fourth time. “I’m so sorry, Rumald. I’m just so nervous and seeing you and Regina’s mother,” She lowered her hand down from her face to look at him. “I’m just… I’m not good enough to dance with you. This is so stupid!” Belle waved her hands angrily. “I should never have agreed to do this! What was I thinking! I’m not good enough!”

“Belle,” He raised his voice to be heard over her rant, stopping her from saying anything more. “Whose said you’re not good enough?”

“I can’t be any good. I’ve only been dancing for, what? Six weeks?” She threw at him, airily waving her hand.

Rumald pressed his brow down over his eyes, saying. “That really doesn’t matter.”

“It should matter!” Belle proclaimed with her voice getting louder.

“To me it doesn’t.” He gestured to himself. “I’ve known people, who have been learning ballroom for years, and they don’t dance as well as you do.”

“You’re just saying that.” She bowed her head, dropping her gaze down to the floor.

Impulsively, Rumald advanced closer to her, catching her chin with his hand to lift her face back up, making her face him, as he said. “I don’t just say anything to you. I mean every word.” He eased the pressure under her chin, stroking his thumb along the line of her jaw. “I’m telling you, you’re a good dancer.”

Belle shut her eyes, dislodging a tear to run down her face, as she told him. “He said you’d say that.”

“Who did?” Rumald asked, wiping the lonesome tear from her cheek with his other hand.

“Gaston.” She painfully spoke his name.

Rumald’s whole body tensioned with his anger. There had been a few times in his lifetime, Rumald had come close to killing someone, but hearing her voice say Gaston’s name nearly broke his restraint. He let his hand drop from under her chin, removing all contact from her. At his sides, his hands balled into fists, wanting to punch out at the nearest solid object. If he had been in his shop, Rumald would have happily relieved himself by smashing up his shop. It would not have been the first time he had done it.

“Come with me.” He ordered her, though he grabbed her right wrist to drag her back into the middle of the room.

Letting go of her hand, Rumald left her in the middle of the room and went to the sound system, stopping the Waltz playlist. Over his shoulder, he checked she was where he had left her in the middle of the room. Belle looked miserable, wiping her eyes with the sleeve of her cardigan. Hurriedly, he ran through the list of songs on the system, finding the song he had in mind. It was one, he would always listen to when he was cooking or in the car, imagining a routine to the song.

As the intro boomed out of the speakers, Rumald turned up the volume before he pushed himself away from the sound system and went to Belle, telling her as he approached. “Don’t think of anything outside of these four walls. It’s just you and me. Nothing else. Only do what you feel.”

“What are we…?” Belle tried to ask him, but Rumald stopped her with a finger over her lips, bridging the gap between her soft lips. “Don’t think.”

Taking hold of hand to clasp it in his own, Rumald directed her to put her other hand on his shoulder and led her into a fast waltz. She wore a confused look on her face, examining his face as they danced. When they had completed the box step for a third time, Rumald deposited her hand clasped in his own onto his other shoulder and placed his hands low onto her sides. Belle scowled her face at him, though she did not refuse to follow his lead, moving her hands to sit either side of the base of his neck. With his hands on her sides, he coaxed her into closing the gap between, changing them into a backwards streamline step.

At the end of the run of their streamline step, Rumald stooped to dip his left hand to the back of her knee and lifted her, encircling her lower back with his right arm, and spun them round, switching into the box step. Belle spied down at his face, her hands clutching to his shoulders as they spun. They did this for three complete box steps and Rumald lowered her down painfully slow, allowing her to slide down the front of his chest, as he continued their dance. With her feet back on the floor, the tension in her was easing, slowly being danced away.

There was a change and Rumald felt it with her chest pressing more firmly into his chest. Allowing himself to go with the change, Belle redirected their movements, leading them into a backwards streamline. He grinned and dipped himself out of her hold, dashing around her to be behind her, capturing her with his left arm around her waist. Hauling her back, stopping them from moving forward, they halted together. Belle twisted her head to see him over her shoulder, her hair covering part of her face. He slid his left hand up the front of her body and swept her hair from her face, swaying her in time with the music. She spun in his hold to clamp herself to his body, pressing her forehead into his face. Claiming her right hand from his neck, Rumald started them off again into the Waltz box step, keeping her flat against his body.

The song was nearing its end. Using the hand, he held, Rumald tugged her from his body and spun her a few times. When she had nearly completed the fourth turn, he swept her up into his arms, cradling her to his chest, as he continued the spin. The song began to die off, but Rumald did not care with her in his arms, his forehead pressed against her own with her hands laced around the back of his head.

He slowed their spin to a stop and stood there with Belle in his arms, his chest heaving for breath. She did not say anything. She did not move. Belle remained perfectly still in his arms, trying to catch her own breath. Rumald swallowed, feeling her thumb stroke through the damp hair at the back of his neck. Even though, he wanted them to stay like that until the end of his days, Rumald knew he had to put her down. Carefully, Rumald stooped himself to lower Belle down, waiting until she had her feet firmly planted before he removed his arm from around the back of her legs. She was gazing at him as he stood up, his arm still around her back, while her hands were still around the back of his neck.

With his panting easing, Rumald looked her direct in the eye and said. “Don’t ever tell me you’re not a good dancer.”

Very slowly, a smile spread Belle’s lips wide. Seeing her smile, Rumald allowed himself to smile as well, breathing noisily through his nose. In one movement, Belle stooped up to him and clasped her hands either side of his face, holding him still, whilst she placed a firm kiss to the corner of his mouth. His eyes grew wide at her kiss. Belle dropped back off her tiptoes, her smile wider than it was before, leaving her hands to hold his face. He stared at her.

“Thank you.” Belle told him as her hands moved from his face to rest on his chest.

Rumald really wanted to kiss her, especially now he had felt a hint of her kiss on his lips. Moving his hand to caress her cheek, brushing the backs of his fingers over her right cheek, he bent himself at his waist, giving into his want. It was the pressure of Belle’s hands on his chest, which stopped him from closing the gap between them.

“We need to practise.” She told him seriously.

Feeling rejected, Rumald stood up straight, saying. “Indeed.”

“I’ll go and get Regina.” Belle backed away from him, facing him, hooking her thumb at the door behind her.

“Okay.” Was all Rumald could managed to say, while he helplessly watched her turn away from him to walk to the door.

Planting his hands onto the waist of his pants, Rumald bowed his head and slowed his breathing, still panting from their dance. He looked up to see Belle, needing see something, anything, to know what he was feeling was wrong. Rumald did not want to know that everything over the last few weeks had been for nothing. Allowing himself to feel things, he had long ago buried, for her had not been for nothing. He hoped he had not been enticed under the spell, which would haunt him for the rest of his days. All he wanted was to see some kind of sign from her, anything, which would give him some relief from the ache in his heart. It was whilst Belle was opening the glass door to call down to Regina, when she had looked back at him and gave him the full blown smile that let him breath. Seeing her smile, Rumald heaved in an almighty breath, grateful for the sign he had been given.


	26. Chapter 26

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Rumald and Belle travel to Boston.

Rumald scratched at the palm of his left hand, while he read through the report Marko’s foundations expert had emailed him, along with the estimate for the repairs. He grumbled under his breath, wishing he had never bought the damn property. The money was not the issue. Neither was the property. Rumald had no problem with spending the money, if it needed repairs and updating. The fact, he had paid someone to check over the property before he bought it, was what he had a problem with. Reaching the end of the report, Rumald sent a quick reply back to the expert, accepting the estimate and urging for the work to be carried out as soon as possible. He clicked ‘send’ and shut down his laptop.

Pulling back his sleeve on his shirt, Rumald checked the time on his watch as he stood up from his dining room table, leaving his laptop on the table and taking his used plate with him. He strolled from the dining room into the kitchen, loading his plate and cutlery into the awaiting dishwasher he had stacked earlier. With his used utensils inside, Rumald set the dishwasher off and moved to check the French doors were locked, giving him a satisfactory clatter when he tried to open them.

He waltzed through the foyer into the living room to claim his suit jacket, from the back of the armchair he had laid it earlier, and put it on as he went back into the foyer. With his suit jacket on, Rumald checked the inside pocket of his suit jacket for his phone, finding nothing but an empty pocket. Frowning, he turned to look about the living room, spotting his phone on the seat of the armchair he had laid his suit jacket over. Rumald grabbed his phone and slipped it into his inside pocket, walking to the coat stand in the foyer to grab his overcoat. As he was putting on his overcoat, checking his pockets for his keys as he did, Rumald was looking down at his suitcase stood at the bottom of the stairs. In his head, he went through everything in his case and tried to think of anything he might need over the weekend. Noting everything off his mental checklist, Rumald grabbed his suitcase and opened the front door, and left his house locking the door behind him.

Rumald drove into town and parked in one of the spaces at the front of his shop. Climbing out of his car, he glanced over to the library before heading into his shop, jingling the bell above the door as he entered. Dove twisted to see who had entered, perched on top of the step ladders with a duster in his hand.

“Did you grab my dry cleaning?” Rumald questioned moseying through the shop to go into the back of the shop.

“Yes, sir.” Dove gestured to the wall in front of him. “I hung it in the back.”

Casting the curtain to one side, Rumald slipped through into the back of the shop and saw his dry cleaning hanging on the front of the cabinet. He crossed the room to the cabinet and unhooked his dry cleaning to take with him. Heading back to the curtained doorway, Rumald glanced round the back room, not really looking for anything, and swept the curtain out of his way to go through into the front.

Rumald hooked his dry cleaning on the nearest shelve before he ducked behind the counter to go to the safe, saying to Dove. “You might as well close up after I’ve gone, Dove.”

“Okay, sir.” Dove said wiping down the top shelves.

The safe unlocked with a clunk and Rumald pushed down the handle on the heavy door to open it, changing his mind as he said. “Actually, close up early and take the weekend off, Dove.”

“Sure?” Dove stopped dusting and peered down at Rumald, baffled by Rumald’s unusual kindness.

“If you don’t want to…” Rumald angled his gaze up at Dove, while he removed some cash from the safe to top up his money clip.

“Thank you, Mr Gold.” Dove expressed his gratitude, bowing his head in a curt nod.

Rumald shut the door to safe and spun the dial on the front of the safe, locking it, while he returned his money clip into his pants pocket, saying. “I do expect you to take calls over the weekend and deal with anything with the tenants.”

“Yes, sir, not a problem.” Dove said as he descended the step ladders.

“I’ll see you on Monday then, Dove.” Rumald gave Dove a brief smile before he turned away from Dove, coming out from behind the counter to grab his dry cleaning from where he left it.

As Rumald headed to the front door of the shop, Dove said to him. “I hope Miss French and you win, sir.”

Opening the front door, jingling the bell above his head, Rumald twisted to see Dove. “I don’t know about winning, Dove, but I’ll make sure she has a good time trying.”

Dove smiled. Slightly lifting his eyebrows at Dove, Rumald stood looking at Dove, thinking it was rare occurrence to see his employee smile. Reluctant to say anything more, Rumald pulled the door open wider and left his shop, closing the door behind him. He walked to his car and opened the rear passenger door, glimpsing over the door at his shop, as he hooked his dry cleaning onto the grab handle on the ceiling.

Rumald shut the car door and marched across the street to the library, rolling back his sleeve to check his watch. They had agreed Rumald would collect her from the library at about three o’clock. He had planned his day meticulous, making sure he would collect her bang on time. His day had started with collecting some owed debts, then he met with the Mayor, finished a pocket watch and sent some items to clients. Taking a late lunch at home, Rumald had packed his suitcase and ate, ready with plenty of time to collect Belle from the library.

Pulling open the library door, Rumald stepped inside to be hit with the same smell as before: dust and old books. He turned his nose up at the smell, grateful he was scrupulous on keeping his shop dust free, otherwise, he was afraid, it would smell much like the library. Rumald progressed further into the library, advancing to the circulation desk to peer over it and through the open doorway into her office. Belle did not appear to be in her office and with a quick glance behind the desk, she was not at the circulation desk. He scowled drifting away from the circulation desk, guessing she was deeper in the library. Entering the aisles of books, Rumald looked down the first aisle, then the next one and was moving to look down the third, when he hear the elevator kick into life.

Rumald came out of the aisles of books and reached the door of the elevator, just as it came to a stop on the ground floor. Clasping his hands in front of himself, he waited as the elevator door open and the cage door retracted up revealing Belle. She backed out of the elevator dragging a book cart with her, unaware of him. He watched her, waiting for her to notice him, as she pulled the book cart over to the circulation desk, taking it around the desk. Belle switched her position on the book cart and pushed it up against the wall outside of her office. Quietly taking the few steps to the circulation desk, Rumald bent himself over the desk, propping his chin up with his elbow whilst he observed her going into her office.

She was mumbling to herself in her office and Rumald raised a curious eyebrow as he listened to her. “I swore we said three o’clock. He’s never really late… Where did I put…? Got my… Oh, yes!”

Walking purposely out of her office, her hand reaching for something on the circulation desk, Belle caught sight of Rumald out of the corner of her eye and screamed at him. She held her hand over her chest, jumping back against the doorframe of her office. Staying exactly where he was, Rumald stopped a smirk from gracing his lips, inwardly laughing at her gasping for breath.

Belle shook her head at him, pushing herself away from the doorframe, saying to him. “How long have you been here?”

“A minute or two.” He said as she collected her purse from the circulation desk.

“That was a wicked thing to do.” She scolded him over her shoulder as she went back into her office.

Rumald pushed himself off the desk and strolled along the circulation desk until he could see her in her office, telling her. “I’m sure you’re well aware of my reputation.”

“I don’t think I’ve heard about you scaring people to death.” Belle raised her voice to be heard outside of her office.

“Well… You know what they say, dead men tell no tales.” He held back the smirk, which threatened to take over his lips, as Belle’s head popped around the end of the door to look at him.

Seeing her scowl at him, Rumald let himself smile at her, pretending to be innocent under her scrutinising gaze. She rolled her eyes at him and her head disappeared behind the door again. Bowing his head, he let his smile grow wider, as he rested against the circulation desk on his elbow, waiting for her to come out of her office. Rumald chuckled quietly to himself at scaring her. It was stupid, he knew this, but he could not help himself. Being around Belle made him feel so alive, feel young again.

“Here.” Belle said to him, coming out of her office.

Leaning off the counter, Rumald was confronted with two dress bags and the large bag as Belle asked. “Can you carry these for me?”

“Course.” He complied with her, hooking the hooks of the dress bags with his fingers and taking the large bag from her.

“I’ll just grab my handbag and suitcase and I’m ready to go.” She told him, waltzing back into her office.

Rumald slowly crossed from the circulation desk to the entrance door of the library, glancing over his shoulder to see Belle follow him. She smiled at him, pausing in the doorway of her office to turn off the light. Walking backwards into the entrance door, Rumald used his back to open the door and stood holding the door open, while Belle came out from behind the circulation desk to approach the entrance door, stopping to flick off the lights by the door. She squeezed through the gap between Rumald and the other door, partly brushing herself against his body. Rumald licked his lips at the thought of her body against his own, while he moved out of the way to let the door shut and observed Belle locking the door.

“God, I’m getting so nervous, but I’m so excited at the same time.” Belle confessed to him, delivering her keys into her handbag, as they started towards Rumald’s car.

“It’s not a bad thing to be nervous.” He said to her, minding her when she stepped off the kerb with him.

She looked at Rumald, asking. “Do you get nervous?”

Rumald shook his head at her and awkwardly opened the trunk of his car, delivering the large bag he carried into the trunk. “Not really.”

“Supposed you just get used to it after doing them for so long.” Belle lifted her suitcase into the trunk and placed her handbag in with the bags, retrieving her phone from her handbag.

“Probably.” Rumald shut the lid of his trunk and proceeded her to the passenger door, opening it to hold it open for her, as he said. “But like I said, there’s nothing wrong in being nervous, just as long as you remember to enjoy yourself.”

“I’ll try.” She commented, moving by him to get into the car.

Shutting her door after her, Rumald took a step to his left and opened the rear door to hook her dress bags up with his dry cleaning. He closed the door and walked around the car to open the driver’s door, glancing at his shop before he stepped into his car. Belle shifted on the seat, pulling her skirt down to cover the tops of her knees, as Rumald pulled his keys out of his pocket and started the car. As he reversed out of the parking space, Rumald caught the lights turning off in his shop and Dove coming out of the shop shortly afterwards as Rumald put the car into drive. He budged in his seat to get more comfortable as he started to drive, briefly eyeing Dove locking the shop for the weekend.

“Dove is closing up early.” Belle stated to him, looking over the back of the seat to see Dove walk away from the shop.

“I told him, he could close early.” Rumald informed her, leaning forward in his seat to pull some of his overcoat from underneath himself.

“That was nice of you.” She said to him.

He glanced from the road to Belle to see her smiling. “It’s swings and roundabouts.”

“What?” Belle questioned.

Rumald looked at her again, her confusion written across her forehead. “Swings and roundabouts? Give and take?” She still looked confused when he glanced again, so he explained. “Meaning, I’ve given him an early finish and the weekend off, but I’ll get it back from him in the future.”

“Do you always do things, expecting things in return?” She queried.

“I got your car back without expecting anything.” He told her before flicking his gaze over to her.

“I mean with everyone else.” Belle said to him.

Squinting his eyes in thought, Rumald pressed his lips into a thin line and said to her. “There’s always a price, dearie.”

When she did not say anything, Rumald glanced over to find she was leant against her car door, looking out of her window. Belle had a very thoughtful look on her face, like she seriously deliberating over something. He glimpsed at her a couple of times, wondering if what he had said had upset or offended her. Going over their conversation in his head, Rumald could not find anything, he could have said, that would have troubled her so much. Rumald let himself look one more time at her and saw the deep lines of thought had eased from her forehead. He was not sure what had ended their conversation so abruptly, but he chose to stay silent and wait for her to talk to him.

The silence had remained for the two-hour car journey from Storybrooke to Boston. After changing lanes, Rumald casually moved his gaze to look at Belle, who had fallen asleep against the door. Knowing the hotel would not be far after crossing the next bridge, he reached over the seat to her, placed his hand on her shoulder to gently shake her, while he kept his eyes on the road. After a few shakes, Belle shifted taking in a sharp breath and angled her head to see him over her shoulder.

“We’re nearly there.” Rumald informed her, withdrawing his hand to put on the steering wheel.

Belle pushed her hand into the base of the seat to sit herself up, away from the car door, asking him. “How long have I been asleep?”

“You’ve had a good hour.” He told her, following his lane to take the long sweeping bend up onto the bridge. “You fell asleep just before Portsmouth.”

“I don’t normally fall asleep in the car.” She said to him as she leant forward to peer out of the windscreen.

There was not much for her see outside, only buildings and railway lines. They could have been anywhere and Belle would not have been the wiser. Reaching the end of the slip way, Rumald kept in his lane, keeping an eye on the lane beside his own as the slipway converged with the traffic to the bridge. The traffic on the bridge began to slow down, joining up to the Friday night rush hour traffic. It took them a while to get across the bridge to enter tunnel on the other side, exiting out to Waterfront. Belle made ‘aww’ noise as they came to a stop at the end of the slipway, waiting for the traffic lights to change.

“That building with the clock tower is quite interesting.” Belle said to him, crooking her head to get a better view of the building that had caught her eye.

Rumald angled his head to look at the clock tower. “That’s the Federal courthouse.”

The traffic light changed, allowing Rumald to pull away, while Belle took in the different buildings they passed. A short distance from the intersection, Rumald signalled and took two left turns, driving partly back in the direction they had come to take the turning into the hotel. The Marriott’s Long Wharf hotel was a strange shaped building, trying to maintain the same shape as the surrounding dock buildings. Rumald had always found it to be a curious building, whenever he had stayed at the hotel in the past and it was even stranger now.

Pulling up to the entrance, Rumald put the Cadillac into park and turned off the engine before getting out of the car. He handed the keys to the valet, waiting for Rumald as he stepped out of his car, and looked across the top of the car to see another valet holding the door open for Belle.

“Any bags, sir?” The valet asked him, palming Rumald’s keys.

Rumald gestured to the back of the car. “There’s some bags in the trunk and some items hooked up on the backseat.”

“No problem, sir.” The valet waved a hand, gesturing to the other valet that they had luggage.

Waiting a couple of steps away from his car, Rumald observed Belle making her way slowly around the car, closely watching the valets as they removed their things from the car. She met up with Rumald, glancing at him from the valets, who were loading their bags and the items from the backseat onto a luggage cart. While she followed them, Rumald drew out his money clip to remove a tip each for the two valets, strolling behind them and Belle as they headed through the revolving door into the hotel.

Rumald came out of the revolving door to find Belle stood still, gazing round at the bright décor of the hotel lobby and the escalators leading up to the hotel reception. He handed a tip each to the two valets, giving more to the one with his car keys, and thanked them. They thanked him and left, hurrying back outside to move his car and to get onto the next guest, who was arriving behind them. Flicking back his overcoat to stow his money clip back into his pants pocket, Rumald ambled over to Belle, noting a bellhop had grabbed their luggage cart and was taking it up in the elevator to reception.

Placing a hand onto her back, Rumald let himself stand rather close to her, enjoying the whiff of her fragrance, as he asked. “You okay?”

“This is amazing.” Belle was looking up at the lights hanging down from the ceiling.

“Come on.” He gentled put pressure on her back, starting her towards the escalators. “Let’s get checked in.”

She did not object to him, walking beside him onto the escalator, riding on the same step together. Inclining himself back against the side of the escalator, Rumald admired her, while she looked around at the hotel lobby. Rumald let her step off the escalator first. Belle was reading the sign in front of them, directing them where to go, when he hooked his hand on her elbow and tugged her in the direction of the reception desk.

“I take it you’ve been here before?” Belle inquired falling into step with him.

“A few times.” Rumald smiled at her. 

As they approached the reception desk area, Rumald slowed his pace to see a large poster advertising the dance competition. Belle carried on without him, awing at the seashells decorating the wall, following them around the corner to see they carried on across the wall. Rumald walked away from the poster and went to the reception desk, glimpsing to Belle to see she was inspecting some art deco pieces sat on display.

“Good evening, sir, and welcome to the Marriott.” The front desk clerk said to him. “How may I assist you?”

“There should be a booking under the name of Gold.” Rumald told the clerk.

The clerk typed and clicked, and looked at Rumald with a smile. “Yes, sir. I have a two queen harbour view room booked under the name of Gold.”

“Harbour view?” Rumald questioned, remembering it was one of the cheaper rooms of the hotel.

“Yes, sir.” The clerk raised their eyebrows, sensing something was wrong.

Glancing over his shoulder at Belle, Rumald swept back his overcoat to delve his hand into the rear pocket of his pants, retrieving his wallet as he looked back to the clerk, asking. “Is there a chance I could upgrade the room?”

“We are limited on availability, sir, due to the ballroom competition.” The clerk typed and clicked. “We have a luxury waterfront suite available, but that would be an increase of a thousand dollars a night, sir.” The clerk told Rumald.

“Can I pay for the upgrade now?” He asked opening up his wallet to retrieve his credit card and offered it to the clerk.

“Course you can, sir.” The clerk clicked their mouse a few times before gesturing for Rumald to put his card into the card machine on the counter. “If you’d like to put your card in and enter your pin, sir.”

Rumald did as the clerk had instructed and was entering his pin, when the clerk asked. “Would you like the put your credit card against your room, sir?”

“Yes.” Rumald answered, pulling his card out of the machine when the transaction was complete.

“I’ll just get the relevant paperwork, sir.” The clerk said typing and clicking at their computer.

Flicking back his overcoat to return his wallet to his pants pocket, Rumald turned his head feeling a hand touch his shoulder and found Belle standing just behind him. “Everything alright?”

“Yes, fine.” Rumald gave her a short smile.

“Here you go, sir.” The clerk put some paperwork onto the counter and placed a pen on top of the pieces of paper. “If you could sign these, sir, then we’ll be able to keep your details on the system. I’ll go and get your keys.”

Without looking at the paperwork, Rumald signed, flicking through the pages to sign each one. Belle hovered behind him, spying over his shoulder as he signed. Turning his head to look at her as he signed his name to the last page, Rumald showed her half a smile and put the pen down on top of the papers as the clerk arrived back of the desk.

“Thank you, sir.” The clerk said and offered a booklet to Rumald over the desk. “Here’s a booklet with relevant information about the hotel, sir. Your two room keys are inside the booklet. Any problems, please don’t hesitate to contact us at the front desk and I hope you enjoy your stay.”

“Thank you.” Rumald thanked them as he took the booklet from them and turned to walk over to the elevators.

The bellhop, Rumald had seen earlier, was waiting for them by the entrance to the elevators. Nearing the entrance, Rumald nodded his head to the bellhop to acknowledge him and strolled through to the elevators, reaching to press a call button for an elevator. While he waited, Rumald opened the booklet and took one of the key cards before offering the booklet to Belle. She took it from him with a smile and was looking over the front of it, when their elevator arrived and the doors opened in front of them. Guiding Belle inside, while she opened the booklet to read the booklet, Rumald led her to one side of the elevator, allowing the bellhop to push their luggage cart in behind them.

“Fourth floor. Room 402.” Rumald said to the bellhop, who pressed the relevant button the panel.

The doors to the elevator closed with Belle saying. “Did you realise the hotel was built to resemble ship?”

“Was it now.” He turned his head to look at her beside him, her nose buried in the booklet.

“The interior emulates a cruise ship.” She went on to tell him.

“Haven’t noticed.” Rumald moved his gaze to the floor counter to see they were passing the third floor.

The doors to the elevator opened and the bellhop pulled their luggage cart out of the elevator, as Belle said. “The hotel has three hundred and ninety-seven rooms and fifteen suites.”

“Does it now.” Rumald said wrapping his arm around her to herd her out of the elevator.

“The wharf dates back to early seventeen hundred.” She shared with him, oblivious to the long corridor in front of them.

“I didn’t know that.” He titled his head to watch her, loving her thirst for knowledge.

Ahead of them, Rumald could see the bellhop was waiting outside of the door to their suite. Slightly increasing their pace with the arm around her back, they soon approached the bellhop and the door to their suite. Rumald slid his key card into the door lock and the door gave him a beep and a flash of a green light, granting him access to the room. He pushed down the handle and opened the door, and held it open for the bellhop to enter the suite with cart. Belle followed the bellhop in, still reading the booklet as she walked into the room. Rumald let go of the door and slipped into the small passageway behind him, pocketing his room key, and opened the minibar to grab himself a whiskey.

“Oh my god!” Came a cry from Belle.

He poured a small bottle of whiskey into a short glass, glancing out of the passageway to see what her cry was about, when he found the bellhop approaching the door to their suite with an empty luggage cart. Placing his glass and the empty bottle of whiskey onto the counter, on top of the minibar, Rumald pulled back his overcoat to get his money clip and handed the bellhop a tip on his way out.

“Thank you, sir.” The bellhop said and left their suite.

“Have you seen this view!” Belle called from somewhere, her voice sounding like she was outside.

Rumald claimed his glass of whiskey and shrugged off his overcoat, throwing it on the armchair as he passed it, heading to where he thought she might be. Traipsing by the sitting area to the long stretch of windows, he could see Belle out on the balcony, leaning over the railing as she tried to get a view of the harbour. He glanced at the bedroom area of the suite, noting they had not changed the décor much since his last visit, and stepped out onto the balcony.

“Rumald!” She called to him, tiptoeing to try and get a better view.

Rumald came up behind her and grabbed the back of her coat as he told her. “I’m right here.”

“Oh!” Belle jumped at hearing his voice, but quickly recovered from her small fright, bouncing round to face him as she pointed at whatever had caught her attention in the harbour. “Look at those boats!”

“We do have boats back in Storybrooke.” He reminded her, letting go of her coat, and drank from his whiskey.

She gave him a pointed look and said. “They’re fishing boats. These are yachts and… boats.”

Rumald scoffed at her, turning to head back inside. “Seen one, you’ve seen them all.”

“Yes, but there’s some really big ones out there. I bet they’re really expensive!” Belle followed him inside and slid the door close after herself.

“I would assume they are.” Rumald agreed with her, squeezing by a glass table and the armchair, where he had left his coat, to sit down onto the couch, and lounged back into the cushions.

“This suite is amazing.” Belle raised her voice to be heard from the bedroom area of the suite. “I can’t believe Regina would pay for a room like this.”

Rumald held his glass up to his lips, mumbling to himself, “No, neither can I.” and drank from his whiskey.

He heard Belle coming through from the bedroom and looked to see her come into the sitting area, while he placed his glass down onto the coffee table, with her saying. “I just thought,” She stopped to stand by the armchair, her fingertips of her left hand touched his overcoat as Belle pointed to the bedroom with her right hand. “There’s only one bed.”

“Fold out bed.” Rumald pointed his finger at the couch.

“We’re sharing this suite?” She asked with realisation dawning.

“Is that going to be a problem?” He questioned, raising his eyebrows at her.

Belle squeezed her eyebrows together, her mouth open, as she stared at him. Picking up his glass of whiskey, Rumald drank from it, while he waited for her to answer his question. It had been Regina’s idea to put them both into the same room. Rumald would never have been so presumptuous, but he had to admit it was a very good idea, seeing as time was not on Rumald’s side. He only had a week with her and she would be married the following Sunday. Drastic times, called for drastic measures.

Shaking her head, Belle answered him. “No, no. I don’t have a problem with it. We’re both adults. I’m sure it won’t be a problem.”

“I’ll sleep on the fold out bed.” Rumald told her, sitting back into the cushions, resting his glass on his thigh.

“As long as you’re happy with that.” She said sliding her coat off her shoulders to shrug it down her arms, removing it to lay her coat beside his own coat on the armchair.

“Well… I don’t think, your fiancé, would be happy, if I was to share a bed with you.” He drank from his whiskey and added. “Although, I wouldn’t complain.”

Belle gave him a pointed look and a sarcastic smile, and said. “No… I don’t think he would be happy.”

“The fold out bed will be fine.” He insisted to her, patting his left hand on the seat cushion.

Downing the dregs of whiskey in the bottom of his glass, Rumald sat forward to deliver his glass to the table, aware of Belle wandering back to the bedroom area of the suite. Sure she could not see him, Rumald twisted himself to check she had gone and stood up from the couch to follow her into the bedroom. He looked out at the harbour, through the long stretch of windows, walking the small corridor into the bedroom. Belle was holding her two dress bags and his dry cleaning in her hands as he entered.

“Do you want me to hang your suit in here?” She gestured with the things in her hands to the closet next to him.

“Sure, if you don’t mind.” He stepped out of her way as she came around the foot of the bed to go to the closet.

Belle showed him a brief smile. “Not at all.”

“I called my son earlier today and arranged to go to dinner with him.” He shouldered his weight against the closet, while she put their things inside of it.

“Oh…” Belle leant back to see him on the other side of the closet door, looking very disappointed. “Of course.” She said to him, though he could see she was forcing her smile as she closed the closet door, leaving her hand resting against the smooth surface of the door. “Don’t worry about me. I’ll just order some room service.”

Rumald titled his head, crooking an eyebrow at her. “I was going to ask, if you wanted to join us.”

“Oh…” Belle was stunned and dropped her hand down the front of the closet.

“But…” He pushed himself away from the closet and began to leave the room, saying. “If you don’t want to come...”

“No, no.” She chased him around the corner of the closet, catching him in the small corridor to the sitting area. “I’d love to go with you.”

Rumald pivoted round to face her, a grin on his face, as he told her, checking the time on his watch. “I arrange to meet him in the lobby at six. We’ve got about half an hour, if you want to freshen up.”

“Okay.” Belle beamed a smile at him and left him to find her suitcase.

Giving her some privacy, Rumald headed through into the sitting area and sat back down onto the couch. He took his phone from the inside pocket of his suit jacket, unlocking it to check his emails. Hearing her coming from the bedroom, Rumald peeked at her as she walked by the armchair, searching for the bathroom. As Belle turned her head to look at him, he casted his gaze back down at his phone, flicking to delete an email. When she had not said anything to him, Rumald slowly lifted his gaze to see her cautiously looking into the passageway and hesitate as she stepped into the passageway. He observed her as she bravely edged further into the passageway and reached her hand out to push the door open for the bathroom. A chuckle escaped his lips, when she jolted up straight at finding the bathroom.

“What?” Belle was looking at him.

“Nothing.” He said and pointed to his phone. “Funny email.”

She did not look convinced, but headed into the bathroom and closed the door behind herself. Squeezing his lips together into a tight line, Rumald knew he should not laugh at her, but her reaction to finding the bathroom had been too cute for him to ignore. ‘ _Cute’_ , he thought the word over his in head, a word very foreign in his vocabulary. Rumald could never remember a time he had ever used ‘cute’ to describe anything in his life. He had never used it to describe anything Neal had done as a baby. Never used it about his ex-wife or Cora. Cute was… Not a word Rumald would have associated with anything. Apart from Belle it seemed.

Rumald’s phone sprung to life in his hand, changing his email inbox to blue background with Neal’s name across the screen. He answered the phone, swiping his thumb across the bar at the bottom of the screen.

“Hey, Neal.” Rumald greeted his son.

“Hey, I’m down in the lobby.” Neal said.

Rumald stood up from the couch removing his tie as he said. “Grab a table in the bar and we’ll be down in a minute.”

“Okay.” Neal hung up the phone.

Whipping his tie out from his collar, Rumald tossed it to join his overcoat and Belle’s coat and undid the first three buttons of his shirt, widening out his collar, as he discarded his phone to the coffee table. The door to the bathroom opened and Belle came out, humming an unknown tune to herself. She waltzed passed Rumald, holding a toiletry bag in her hands, and went back to the bedroom area. He could not help but watch her, while he removed his suit jacket to lay over the other things on the armchair. It was easy to pretend they were playing house.

Rumald breathed out a heavy sigh, feeling a dull ache in his chest, while he made his way into the bathroom to wash his face and hands. He splashed his face a couple of times, mindful of his shirt, and looked at himself in the mirror. Squinting his eyes at his reflection, he flicked at some of his hair, ran wet fingers through his hair, toyed with the tuff sticking up at the back… and hated his hair. Rumald grumbled, while he wet his hands to wet his hair, dampening his short hair to tame it, and combed his fingers through his hair, daring the tuff at the back of his head to spring up as he did it.

“I’m ready.” Belle called.

“Okay.” He said turning his head from side to side, checking his hair in the mirror.

Happy enough with his hair, Rumald came out of the bathroom to grab his suit jacket from the armchair, glancing round the room to find Belle. She was not there. He straightened the lapels of his suit jacket taking a step to the side and spotted Belle in the small corridor, looking out the windows at the harbour. Rumald opened his mouth to call her name, however he was speechless. She had changed while he had been in the bathroom, exchanging her blouse and skirt for a black cocktail dress and heels. He drank in the sight of her, feeling intoxicated from her beauty. Placing a hand over his chest, Rumald could feel his heart racing under his hand, crying to be freed from its cage and be given to her.

His phone on the coffee table beeped and buzzed. Reluctantly Rumald went to his phone and picked it up, reading the message Neal had sent him. He slid the phone into his left pocket and moved back to the spot he had been watching Belle from.

“Belle.” Rumald called her name and she instantly turned to look at him. “Come on.”

Belle smiled warmly at him, while her heels clicked on the wooden floor, coming out from the small corridor to join him in the sitting area. Greedily, he took a step back from her as she approached him, wanting more time to take in appearance. If Neal had not been downstairs and he had not made a stupid promise to himself, Rumald would have been doing everything in his power to convince her to marry him then and there, begging on his knees at her feet. She gave him a curious look, fidgeting with the clutch purse in her hands.

“I thought I would get change.” Belle gestured to her dress. “I packed a couple of dresses just in case.”

“Very wise.” Rumald remarked, travelling his gaze down her dress, her legs to her heels.

Belle shifted uncomfortably. “Is this too much? I can get changed…?”

“No.” He looked up to her face, offering her a smile of reassurance as he raised his hand to brush the backs of his fingers over her cheek, apologising to her. “Sorry, I just can’t keep my eyes off you. You’re stunning.”

Her blushed quickly rushed to her cheeks at his compliment. “Thank you.”

Rumald offered his arm to her. “Shall we?”

Belle latched her hand around his arm and walked with him to the suite door, where he opened and held the door open for her, letting her go before him into the corridor. While she was gazing down the corridor, her back to him, Rumald ran his gaze down to her calves as he closed the door and fought with his urge to run his fingers up her calves. Just as Belle was bringing her gaze back to him, Rumald lifted his gaze meet her own and offered his arm out to her again, which she gladly took his arm again.


	27. Chapter 27

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The close proximity to Belle is having an effect on Rumald.

Sleep had alluded Rumald. The majority of his night, after they had retired to their respective beds, had been spent tossing and turning, and lying on his back to stare up at the ceiling. From what he could hear from her soft snores, Belle had slept soundly in the bed in the bedroom, dreaming hopefully of Rumald. He had given up on trying to sleep around four in the morning. Sick and tired of snoozing between awake and asleep. Rumald had left their room soon after getting up, thankful he had brought some swimming trunks and had gone to the hotel swimming pool, swimming lengths of the pool until about seven o’clock. Entering the suite, he had found Belle still fast asleep, curled up on her side, clutching the covers under her chin. He had quietly gathered his things and had locked himself in the bathroom to shower, shave and dress. When he had come out of the bathroom, Rumald had put his things with his suitcase and had made himself a coffee to take out onto the balcony.

The early morning nipped at Rumald’s face as he drank his coffee. He perched his cup onto the wall of the balcony, gazing out on the quiet harbour below. Crossing his arms onto the metal railing, which ran the length of the balcony wall, Rumald went over their evening in his head. It had been a very enjoyable evening. His son and Belle had gotten on really well, laughing and talking like they were old friends. There had been a moment, when the realisation of Belle and Neal were of similar age had hit Rumald, but that had not troubled him for long. Age was not important to Rumald, both Milah and Cora had been slightly younger than him. He doubted it had been the reason for his restless night.

They had shared a couple of drinks in the bar before they had preceded to the restaurant, where Rumald had booked a table earlier in the day. When the maître d’ had said, ‘Yes, Mr Gold, a table for three’, Belle had raised an eyebrow at him and had smiled mischievously at him. Rumald had not minded being caught out, if anything, he wanted her to know that he had always planned for her to have dinner with him and his son. What better way than to involve her into his life, then for her to meet his son properly and get to know them both a little a better? And his plan had worked. Belle had hungrily asked question after question, wanting to know more about Rumald and Neal. Leaving his son to do the work, Rumald had nursed his glass of wine, listening to the stories Neal was sharing and correcting details Neal had missed remembered. He could not have seen any of that troubling him from a night’s sleep.

Close to eleven, Neal had wished them both a goodnight and had promised to come and watch them in the competition. That had surprised Rumald. Neal had not attended any of the exhibitions or competitions Rumald had taken part in since he was sixteen. He had refused to come to any of them after Rumald’s affair with Cora had become public knowledge and she had moved into their house. Soon after that, Neal had moved out of the house and gone to live with Milah, or live at her house, while she sailed around the world with her boyfriend. Again, as Rumald drank some more of his coffee, he could not see why that would have stopped him sleeping, since he had been so happy to hear his son was going to come.

Belle and Rumald had had another drink in the bar before they had agreed it was best to head back upstairs. Assisting her out of her chair, Rumald had pulled her chair back for her and offered his hand to her. She had gazed up at him, had grinned at him and had placed her hand into his to stand up, her eyes on him the whole time. Without thinking, he had stroked his thumb over the back of her hand, while he had appreciated her beauty with a smile. Belle had used their joined hands to encourage him to move, tugging him away from the table, and had wrapped her arm around his own, once she had been sure he was moving under his own influence. Rumald had not taken his eyes off of her, trusting her to guide him through the sea of tables to the exit of the restaurant. He had only let his gaze move from her, when they had reached the elevators and he had watched the numbers tick off on the display. They had ridden in the elevator without saying anything and had arrived at their room with no mishap, which would have caused Rumald to have a sleepless night.

Rumald drank from his coffee, finishing off its contents, and placed it down on the wall returning his gaze to the fancy yachts in the harbour. He slowly frowned, thinking of what had happened when they had entered the suite. Seconds into the suite, Belle had kicked off her heels and had bent over to collect them. Granted, yes, Rumald could not help himself as he had ogled her bent over form, with the eight whiskeys and a glass or two of wine circulating his system. She had not noticed, collecting her heels to pad off into the bedroom.

Deciding it would be best to not have any more whiskey, Rumald had put the kettle on in the small passageway to make himself a coffee, while he had called through to Belle. “Would you like a drink?”

“Hot chocolate, if they have it.” She shouted back.

Flicking through the sachets, he had found her a hot chocolate and had ripped open the sachet to dump its contents into a cup, while Belle had called to him. “Can you come here, Rumald?”

Rumald had left the small passageway, quickly removed his suit jacket to dump on the armchair, and had strode through into the bedroom. Not thinking of anything but coffee and sleep, he had entered the bedroom to look round and had found Belle stood in front of the closet, her back to him with her dress partly unzipped.

“Could you unzip me?” She had struggled to point to the zipper. “I think it’s caught.”

Nervously he had licked his lips, staring at her bare back peeping out from her dress at him. Rumald had not been sure, whether he would have been able to control himself and his hands, and his carnal needs for her. Belle had waited patiently for him, her hands had clutched at the front of her dress, ready for when he had released her from her dress. Not knowing a good excuse, Rumald had gingerly walked across to her, had avoided her gaze as he had eyed the troublesome zip. He had pinched below the zip and had gently tugged the zipper up, feeling it free itself. Slowly, Rumald had pulled the zipper down her dress, taking care where it had gotten stuck, and had followed the zipper all the way down, salivating at the skin being exposed. His hand had stayed on the zipper, unable to let go, as he had retraced the travel of her zipper with his eyes, imprinting every detail and mark of her back to his memory.

“Done?” Belle had asked in a quiet voice, crooking her neck to see him over her shoulder.

Rumald had let go of the zipper and had given into his temptation, allowing himself to stroke the back of his forefinger up her exposed back. His touch had been light as a feather, tracing the depression of her spine. Hearing the short gasp and feeling a shiver run through her body, Rumald had smirked at her not moving away from his touch. When his finger had reached the curve of her spine, he had flicked his finger over and had retraced the path with his fingertip, eliciting a soft moan from her.

Stopped by her dress being in his way, Rumald had withdrew his finger, saying to her. “Done.”

Belle had twisted at her waist to see him more, biting her lower lip. Seeing her biting her lip at him, would have been enough for Rumald to lose his self-resolve to her, if he had not heard the kettle in the other room click. He had growled at the interruption of the kettle, while Belle had rapidly blinked her eyes and had reached for her clothing she had laid on the bed. Looking at her stood by the bed with her clothes clutched to her chest, Rumald had thought he best he left her and had returned to the small passageway to make them their drinks. They had not stayed up much longer after that. She had collected her drink, dressed for bed, and had wished him goodnight as she left him into the sitting area.

With a small moan, Rumald bent his head, knowing that was reason he had had a sleepless night. The ‘what could have happened’ would not leave him alone. What if, the kettle had not clicked at that precise moment? What if, Rumald had jumped at the chance to kiss her? What if, Belle had not pushed him away, telling him she had fiancé? What if, indeed.

Shaking his head at himself, Rumald stood up straight from the railing, his hands resting on the railing, while he inwardly told himself how stupid he was. Here he was, in a hotel room with the woman of his dreams, and a ridiculous promise was keeping him from her. Rumald groaned at himself and sat down into one of the patio chairs, as he decided he had to honest with himself.

The promise he had made to himself was just an excuse. Rumald was not concerned about corrupting her pure heart, or that he wanted her to make the first move. The only bit of truth, about his futile promise, was Rumald did not want his relationship to follow the same path of his previous relationships. For so long, he had denied himself the opportunity to love someone else and be loved in returned. Instead of dealing with his feelings after Cora had left him, Rumald had simply shut himself off to them and gave up anything, which reminded him of their time together. Hence why, he had stopped dancing, had stopped teaching, had hardened himself to everyone and had embraced his title of being the beast of Storybrooke. He had pushed everyone away, keeping them behind his walls and away from his heart. Even with Neal, Rumald had toed the line with his son and kept his son at a distance, ready in case his son rebuked him.

However, Rumald could not ignore his heart as it pounded itself against his walls, wanting to give itself to Belle. This was why he had needed a boundary. He had to certain, it was not one sided like it had been with Cora. She had to be willing to give herself to him. Destroy her life to be with him, like he had naively done for Cora. Rumald craved to be loved and his heart believed Belle was the one.

Standing up from the patio chair, Rumald snatched up his cup from the wall and went inside, quietly opening and closing the sliding glass door. About to take a step towards the sitting area, Rumald stopped and shifted to the edge of the closet, sneaking a look around the corner to find her bed was empty. Rumald took another step into the bedroom area, checking she was not hidden by the closet, and found she was not there.

Rumald came through to the sitting area and casted his gaze around the room, finding she was not there either. Approaching the passageway to the bathroom, he could hear her inside the bathroom, her voice muffled by the sound of the shower. He returned his cup to the count on top of the minibar, while he leaned to the wall, listening to her sing on the other side of the wall. Rumald smiled and chuckled, while he came out of the passageway pulling his phone out of his jeans pocket and sat down onto the couch.

After a while, he heard her singing and the shower stop as he flicked his finger across his screen, sorting through his latest emails. A couple of minutes went by before Rumald heard the bathroom door lock recede with a click and the door opened, letting a cloud of steam escape the bathroom. Belle came out of the bathroom dressed in one of the hotel’s robes, roughly rubbing a towel at her wet hair.

She was humming to herself, while she stopped in the passageway to check the water in the kettle and clicked it on to boil. Rumald observed her bobbing from side to side, dancing to the tune she hummed. Seeing her like that was too precious for Rumald to interrupt her. The kettle boiled and Belle poured the kettle into a cup, she had placed a tea bag as she had danced. After returning the kettle, Belle switched her towel to the other hand to continue drying her hair and grabbed her tea to leave the passageway. As she pivoted, Belle gasped at seeing Rumald on the couch and dropped her towel to the floor, while minding the slurp of hot tea which had escaped from her cup.

“Morning.” Rumald greeted her.

“I thought you’d gone out.” She commented as crouched to pick up her damp towel.

“I’ve been sat out on the balcony.” He told her as he locked his phone to slide awkwardly back into his jeans pocket.

Belle’s brow hunched down over her eyes, while she came out of the passageway and shifted to stand behind the armchair. “Have you been up long?”

“Not really.” Rumald lied to her. “An hour, perhaps.”

“Have you had breakfast yet?” She asked, clutching her damp towel in front of her.

Rumald shook his head. “No, not yet. I was waiting for you.”

“Okay.” A small smile pushed her cheeks back. “I’ll go get dressed and we can get some breakfast.”

“Great.” He smiled at her.

The tune she had been humming started as she waltzed through to the bedroom area of the suite. He frowned at her retreating form and was left looking at the entrance to the small corridor. From their short conversation, Rumald could not gauge whether Belle was uncomfortable with him, because of last night, or if her reaction to him, had been from her genuine fright at finding him in the sitting area.

He bowed his head in thought, his gaze on his shoes, as he wondered if she was going to mention last night to him. The sensation of feeling her skin was still fresh in his mind. The lure of wanting more was quietly driving him mad. Breathing in deeply, taming his inner beast, Rumald sat back into the cushions of the couch and lulled his head onto the top of the cushion, closing his eyes to allow himself to a short daydream of her, while he waited for her.

“Rumald.” Belle called his name and he opened his eyes, lifting his head off the cushion behind him, to see her stood over him, smiling at him with her hand on his shoulder. “I think you fell asleep.”

“Just resting my eyes.” He said sitting forward, blinking his eyes.

“You were snoring.” She informed him, stepping by the coffee table to stand near the entrance to the passageway.

Rumald stood up from the couch and tugged at the waist of his jeans, saying. “See, now you must be mistaken, because I don’t snore.”

“I’m sorry to be the one to tell you, but you do.” Belle struggled to keep her grin off her face as Rumald eyed her, while he slipped by the coffee table to join her on the other side.

He dismissed her comment and gestured to the door of their suite. “Shall we…?”

“Yep.” Was her short reply to his question.

She was close on Rumald’s heels as he walked to the door of their suite and opened the door to hold it open for her, letting her squeeze by into the corridor. He took advantage of her back being to him, running his gaze down her body, liking the way her jeans hugged the curve of her backside. As Belle pivoted round to face him, watching him close their suite’s door, Rumald lifted his gaze instantly and showed her a brief smile.

“So, after we’ve had breakfast, what do we do then?” She inquired falling into step beside him, when he started to walk down the corridor, and latched her hand around his arm.

Rumald angled his head to see her beside him and said. “We need to register for the dance competition some point this morning. Especially, if we want to make sure of the practise room. Competition doesn’t normally start until about twelve.”

“Practise room? That might be useful.” Belle said, thinking aloud.

“I never normally use it.” Rumald commented, looking down the corridor in front of them.

“Practising for an hour might be helpful.” Belle clarified her reasoning for wanting to practise as they approached the turn for the elevators. “I’m worried I’ve forgotten all of the steps.”

Rumald studied Belle’s face for a second and saw her worry etched in lines across her forehead, whilst they came to a stop in front of the elevators. “If it’ll help, sweetheart, we’ll go and practise.”

The corners of her lips twitched into a smile at him as he leaned away from her to press the call button for the elevators, while she asked. “Are you sure?”

“Indeed.” He looked to the floor indicated above the elevator doors.

Rumald could feel her eyes were on him, while he casually watched the elevator climb to their floor. So easily, the endearment had crossed his lips, it almost scared Rumald. He had not meant to call her ‘sweetheart’. It had come out all on its own. Looking at her, he grinned at seeing the rosiness of her cheeks and the smile on her face.

The elevator dinged signalling its arrival and the elevator doors sprung open in front of them. Waving his hand to the elevator, Rumald followed her into the elevator and selected the lobby on the panel. Belle grinned at him as he stood beside her, clasping his hands behind his back. The doors closed and the elevator began the descent down to the lobby, but stopped two floors down, allowing some more guests to enter the elevator. Rumald shifted into the corner of the elevator and looked to his side, when he felt something brush across his ribs, finding Belle smiling at him, edging closer to him. He slipped his arm around her, allowing her to come closer into his side, while the elevator doors closed after someone repressed the lobby button. Laying his hand on her side, Rumald held onto the hand rail with his other hand, angling his head to see pass the person in front of him to the floor counter. Small fingers sneaked under his fingers before he felt a hand clutch at his hand, holding his hand where it sat on her side. He did not look, but grinned at her holding his hand.

The elevator pinged at their arrival at the lobby and the other guests evacuated the elevator as soon as the doors opened, leaving Rumald and Belle stood in the corner of the elevator. Rumald guided her out of the elevator, reluctantly slipping his hand from her side and out of her grasp. She glimpsed back at him, while they negotiated their way through the horde people waiting for the elevators. Compared to the night before, the hotel was bustling with people and murmurs of distance conversations loitered in the air.

They came out from the elevators into the lobby and looked at each other, sharing a bemused look between them, when someone called their names. “Rumald, Miss French!”

Belle was the first to look at whoever had called them and said. “Rumald said, you weren’t going to be here.”

Rumald and Regina shared a look between them, but she did not miss a beat, saying to Belle. “Change of plans. I managed to get out of it.”

Rumald raised his eyebrows in surprise, while Belle gestured to Rumald, saying. “Does that mean you’ll be dancing with Rumald?”

He was barely aware of Regina, shaking her head at Belle, telling her that she was not going to replace her after all the hard Belle had done. All Rumald had been aware of, was the tone Belle’s voice when she asked Regina her question. Her tone had stabbed at his heart and had twisted his gut, while filling him with glee. Belle had sounded miserable at the prospect of not dancing with him.

Regina flicked her hand airily, saying. “I don’t like to waltz anyway.”

“Good.” Belle said forcefully to Regina and quickly added. “I mean, okay, that’s good as it… would have been a waste of my time.”

“Right…” Regina moved her gaze to Rumald, giving him a knowing look with a wicked a smile, and said to both of them. “I’ve already preregistered you both at the desk. You just need to pop into ballroom room to sign your names and get your number, Rumald.” She pointed her finger at him. “The practise room opens about nine.”

Rumald crossed his arms over his chest, saying to Regina. “I do know.”

“I’m just reminding you.” She placed her hand on top of Rumald’s crossed arms. “You know, with you getting older, your memory might not be what it used to be.”

“Thank you, Regina.” Belle said, observing the look of annoyance Rumald was giving Regina.

“Here to help.” Regina smiled at Belle, not affected by Rumald’s look.

“We were just heading to breakfast. Would you like to join us?” Belle offered with a smile.

Rumald moved his gaze to Belle, his brow heavily pressing down over his eyes, as Regina said. “I should really go and check on my other dancers, but yes, but only for a coffee.”

Belle shrugged at him and wormed her hand under his crossed arms, tugging him in the direction of the restaurant. Shaking his head, Rumald uncrossed his arms and trudged his way to the restaurant with Regina and Belle either side of him. He had really been looking forward to spending breakfast on their own, seeing as the rest of their day they were going to be surrounded by everyone at the competition. Glaring at Regina next to him, she returned his glare with a shrug of her shoulders.

They entered the restaurant together and the maître d’ said to them. “Table for three?”

“Yes.” Rumald answered instantly and slipped his hands behind Regina and Belle, gently pushing them to go ahead of him.

Without question, Belle and Regina walked ahead of him, with Regina giving Rumald a wicked smile. Rumald shook his head, hating and forgiving her at the same time. Following behind them, they came to the table the maître d’ had led them to and the maître d’ pulled a chair out from the table, gesturing for Belle to take it. Rumald watched Belle smile at the maître d’, jealous of the smile, while he pulled a chair out for Regina, pushing the chair closer to the table when Regina shifted her chair to the table.

“I’m famished.” Belle shared with them, taking the menu the maître d’ offered and hungrily looked at the selection.

Rumald sat down at the table as Regina waved her hand at the maître d’. “I’m just having a coffee.”

The maître d’ offered the menu from Regina to Rumald, who took it, as the maître d’ said. “Your server will be with you shortly.”

Regina reached to touch Rumald’s arm, telling him. “My mother’s arrived by the way. She was in the ballroom, when I went in to preregister everyone.”

“How lovely.” Rumald said through gritted teeth, his eyes skimming over the menu in his hands.

“I thought so too.” Regina replied sarcastically.

Rumald turned his head to look at Regina beside him, asking. “Why is she here, anyway?”

“I think she’s here to support her dancers.” Regina answered his question, while their server approached their table.

“Are we ready to order?” The server requested.

Rumald held his menu to the young woman, stating his order. “Coffee, French toast.”

“Just a coffee.” Regina chided in as the woman took Rumald’s menu from him and scribbled his order onto the notepad.

“Orange juice and a short stack of pancakes, please.” Belle asked kindly and waited for the woman to finish writing before handing her the menu.

Regina played with the fork for her place setting, saying to Rumald as their server left. “I’ve heard my mother has been looking into my dance studio. I think she’s after something. She keeps talking about reconnecting.” Regina waved a hand aimlessly in the air. “I think she wants to try and buy me out, or at least into it the studio.”

Belle interjected. “Or maybe she’s sincere and wants to reconnect with you.”

They both snapped their gazes to Belle, who raised a curious eyebrow at them, as Regina said. “My mother is only interested in wealth and power.”

“Cora uses people, sweetheart.” Rumald said to Belle, shrugging a shoulder at her naïve response.

“Did she use you?” Belle asked him.

Regina cut in to answer for him. “She uses everyone!”

Rumald gave Regina a pointed look before he said to Belle. “I served my purpose until she no longer needed me.”

“Just like my father, like Mary-Margaret’s father, and whoever was after him.” Regina counted off the men on her fingers as she said them.

Angling his head to look at Belle, Rumald offered her a soft smile at seeing deep lines drawn across her forehead. He was not sure, why their conversation about Cora was troubling her and his smile did nothing to ease her frown. His brow pressed down over his eyes as Rumald shifted his seat, considering the conversation they were having about Cora. Belle had no reason to be affronted by the conversation. She had not even met Cora as far as Rumald was aware.

Their server returned with their drinks and placed their orders down in front of them, as Rumald said to Regina. “Be cautious, when it comes to your mother. She always scheming.”

“I blame the person who taught her.” Regina threw at him, earning herself another pointed look from Rumald.

“Cora was already a schemer before she met me, dearie.” Rumald commented reaching for the sugar dispenser in the middle of the table.

Regina drank from her black coffee and said to him, putting her coffee down on the table. “Let’s say you perfected her skills.”

Eyeing Regina beside him, Rumald poured some sugar into his coffee, picking up the teaspoon which had accompanied his coffee cup on the saucer. “I can agree with that.”

“I’m just going to pop to the bathroom.” Belle stood up abruptly from the table and left them to watch her walk away from the table.

“She okay?” Regina asked him as he crooked his neck to follow Belle with his eyes.

When Belle had turned the corner, Rumald turned back to the table, answering Regina’s question. “Possibly nerves.”

“Hey,” Regina knocked his arm with her elbow as he had been reaching for the pot of milk on the table. “Sweetheart?”

“Yes, dearie?” Rumald eyed her beside him, teasing her, knowing she was pointing out what he had called Belle earlier.

“No.” She waved her hand dismissively at him, while he stirred his coffee. “You called Belle, sweetheart.”

“I know.” He said back to her, mocking her with a face of shock.

Ignoring the look on his face, Regina’s eyes flashed at him as she said. “She didn’t seem offended by it.”

“It’s only a sign of affection.” Rumald pointed out to her before drinking from his coffee.

“She looked quite thrilled by it, if I’m honest.” Her wicked smile returned.

“We’ll see.” He commented as Belle came back to their table, depositing her handbag onto the empty chair.

Regina was drinking her coffee, when Rumald asked Belle. “You okay?”

“Yeah, I’m fine.” Belle smiled reassuringly at him, shifting her chair closer to the table.

“I better go and check on the others.” Regina stood up from the table, saying to Belle. “I’ll grab you from the practise room later. Mal’s here doing everyone’s makeup and hair.”

“Okay.” Belle nodded her head at Regina.

Regina placed her hands on Rumald’s shoulders, bending down to bring them face to face, telling him before pressing a kiss to his cheek. “I’ll catch you later, Rumald.”

“Yes, dearie.” He waved her off of him and glimpsed over his shoulder, when she had walked away to see her leaving the restaurant.

Their server came to their table with their breakfasts and placed them down in front of them, while Belle indicated to her face with her hand, informing him. “Regina’s left lipstick on your face.”

Sighing out his annoyance, Rumald grabbed his napkin from the table, eyeing the smile on their server’s face as she waltzed away from their table. He rubbed at the cheek Belle’s had indicated, checking the napkin each wipe to see more red lipstick. Wiping at his cheek, Rumald growled at the lipstick marking his napkin, while Belle got up from their table and disappeared behind him. He was not sure anymore as he looked at his napkin, whether he had wiped the lipstick off his cheek or not. Rumald gave up and tossed his napkin onto the table, taking the napkin from Regina’s place setting.

“Here.” Belle was suddenly in his face, placing a hand on his other cheek as she wiped something wet on his face.

Startled, Rumald pressed firmly into the back of his chair, his eyes wide, as Belle cleaned his face. He settled realising what she was doing and smiled up at her, while she rubbed the lipstick from his cheek. Raising his hand up from the table, Rumald placed his hand over hers holding his head steady and snuggled his face into her hand, closing his eyes to savour the sensation. Her hand wiping his face hesitated as she wiped down his face. Rumald opened his eyes to see she was smiling at him.

“There.” She said standing up straight, slipping her hand from his hold.

Rumald sat forward in his chair and caught her hand to press back against his cheek, as he said to her. “Thank you.”

Belle stroked her thumb against his cheek. “It was my pleasure.”

There was no way Rumald could deny, what he saw reflected back at him from Belle’s eyes. She had feelings for him, he could see it. He grinned at her, angling his head into the touch of her hand with her thumb stroking lovingly at his cheek. There was so much emotion swirling inside of him, Rumald did not know what he wanted to do or say to her as the walls protecting his heart began to crumble. Belle placed her other hand on his face, cupping his face between her hands as she stooped to press a gentle kiss to the corner of his mouth. He had wanted to turn his head and capture her lips, sealing their fate with a kiss, but he was just so thankful to see the love she had for him in her eyes to do anything.

“We better have breakfast and get signed in at the competition.” Belle said down to him with his face in her hands.


	28. Chapter 28

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It's time for the competition.

Teasing the gel into his hair with his fingers, Rumald angled his head in the mirror to see the back of his head, taming the tuffs of his hair to stay down. Before he washed the gel off of his hands, he turned his head from side to side, checking his hair was perfectly moulded. Rumald dried his hands and rehung the towel on the rail, still observing himself in the mirror. Coming back to the sink area, he dug in his toiletry bag and retrieved his aftershave to dab some onto his wrists and discharged some into the palm of his hand. He returned the bottle to his toiletry bag and rubbed his hands together before rubbing the aftershave over his cheeks, chin and neck. He rubbed whatever remained on his hands onto his chest, feeling the wetness of the aftershave dry from his hands.

He left the bathroom, running his thumbs around the inside of the band of his boxers, repositioning the band on his hips as he looked at his clothes hung on the front of the closet by the minibar. Unhooking his shirt from its hanger, Rumald tossed the hanger to the counter on top of the mini bar and fed his right arm into his shirt, ambling out of the passageway to the sitting area. It surprised him, how quiet it was in the suite without Belle. He smiled putting his other arm into his shirt and pulled his shirt up his arms, contemplating how he missed her presence.

They had come back to the suite, after Regina had come for Belle in the practise hall, to collect her things and Regina had whisked Belle away. leaving Rumald to get ready on his own. He buttoned up his shirt, picturing the excitement on her face before she had left the suite.

Entering the passageway, Rumald selected his pants from their hanger, delivering the hanger to join the other hanger as he stepped back into the sitting area to put on his pants. He smiled remembering breakfast. They had chatted as they had eaten their breakfast, smiling laughing at each other. ‘ _Heaven’_ , Rumald thought tucking in the tails of his shirt into his pants before he fastened them. Smoothing his hands down his shirt, chasing the rumples into his pants, Rumald entered into the bathroom, turning in front of the mirror to check his appearance.

Rumald dipped out of the bathroom and grabbed his waistcoat from its hanger to put it on, watching himself in the mirror in the bathroom. He fastened the buttons of his waistcoat, twisting to see his side profile in the mirror, smiling as his tail suit fitted him perfectly.

“Looks like you were wrong this time, Jefferson.” Rumald said to his reflection in the mirror.

Strolling out of the bathroom into the sitting area, Rumald went to where he had left his jeans and grabbed his phone and money clip from the pockets, leaving his wallet in his jeans. He put his phone in his left pocket and his money clip in the right, whilst he took the couple steps to his suitcase, sat by the end of the couch. Rumald crouched down and unzipped the front pocket of his suitcase, and retrieved his white bowtie from the pocket. Holding it out to unravel itself, he strolled back into the bathroom and watched himself in the mirror as he tied his bowtie. A tug at the ends of his bow. A twist clockwise and then anticlockwise. Rumald dropped his hands from his tie, deciding it was perfect with a smirk.

As he came out of the bathroom, Rumald collected the suit jacket to his tails suit and put it on, while he let his gaze comb the sitting area for anything he needed. Rumald tugged the flaps of his suit jacket around him with a frown developing on his forehead. He could have sworn there was something… Rumald clapped his hands together and shot across to the desk on the other side of the room, where he had laid the piece of paper with his number and the pins. He fed the four pins into the lapel of his suit jacket, so he did not lose them or prick himself with them, and collected the piece of paper as he turned to leave the room. On his way to the door, Rumald collected his room key from the counter in the passageway and put it into his pocket with his money clip.

The door locked behind him and Rumald checked it by trying the handle. Happy, he set off down the corridor to the elevators, checking and straightening his cuffs as he walked. A couple coming from the elevators, gave him a questioning look, while they passed him in the corridor. Rumald turned the corner into the elevators and smiled at two girls waiting by the elevators, who were giving him a questioning look. They watched him as he pressed the call button for the elevator and stood back to see which elevator was coming to their floor. The elevator nearest the girls was coming to their floor. Slowly, Rumald edged closer to them and gestured for them to enter first, when the doors to the elevator opened. They giggled at each other as they entered and Rumald rolled his eyes at them, following them into the elevator. As he reached to press the lobby button, he stopped seeing they had already pressed it and backed himself against the side wall of the elevator.

“Are you taking part in the dance competition?” The blonde girl of the pair asked as the doors were closing.

“No.” Rumald shook his head. “I dress like this all the time.”

The brunette scowled at him. “Really?”

“Oh, yeah.” Rumald nodded his head a little too vigorously at them.

“You’re not serious.” The brunette waved her hand dismissively at him.

The blonde squinted her gaze at him. “I think he’s serious.”

Rumald flexed his eyebrows and smiled at the blonde, who slowly started to smile at him. Her friend shook her head at them.

The elevator pinged and the doors opened, while Rumald waved for them to precede him out, grinning at the two girls as they exited the elevator. He chuckled leaving the elevator, hearing them talk about him as they sauntered off, arm in arm, with the blonde, glancing over her shoulder to smile at Rumald. Her smile did nothing like Belle’s smile did. All it did, was make him laugh out loud as he turned the corner to the lobby and followed the signs and posters to the ballroom hall.

Excusing himself through a group of female dancers, who were loitering in the corridor, Rumald stepped through them and took the turn in the corridor to find a mass of dancers were standing outside the open doors to the hall. He rolled his eyes and excused his way through them, trying not to step on toes, while he made it through them to the doorway. Once he was through them and into the hall, he glanced back at them straightening his suit jacket.

“Dad!” Rumald jerked his head in the direction Neal had called and smiled seeing his son.

“Hey.” Rumald ducked around a table, surrounded by chairs, and met up with his son to hug him. “I’m glad you came, son. It means a lot.”

Neal squeezed his father tight and let him go, saying. “Well, I thought you and Belle could do with some support.”

“I’m sure Belle will appreciate that.” Rumald said, touching his hand to his son’s face.

“Speaking of Belle, where is she?” Neal tiptoed to see pass his father, scanning for Belle.

Rumald adjusted the flaps of his suit jacket and twitched his bowtie, turning to follow Neal’s gaze as he said. “Regina’s helping her get ready. They should be down soon, if they’re not already here.”

“So… Dad,” Neal smiled at his father, when his father turned to face him. “What’s the deal with you and Belle?”

“The deal?” Rumald raised his eyebrows at his son.

“You know, what’s going on between you?” Neal leaned into his father, lowering his voice, though it was doubtful, anyone could have heard what they said with the din in the room.

Smiling at his son, Rumald said. “I’m not sure what you mean, son.”

While giving his father a questioning look, Neal said. “At dinner last night, there seemed to be something…”

”Hey!” Regina interrupted Neal and touched Rumald’s arm, drawing his attention away from Neal. “Oh! Hey, Neal!”

“Hey Regina.” Neal stepped closer to Regina and kissed her cheek.

Regina turned her attention to Rumald. “You didn’t say Neal was coming too.”

“It didn’t come up.” Rumald said, splitting his gaze between the two of them.

“I only decided last night.” Neal explained to Regina.

Rumald strained his neck, gazing pass Regina in search of Belle, as he asked. “Where’s Belle?”

“She’ll be here in a minute.” Regina said to him as she pulled a chair out from the empty table and said. “Is this our table?”

“It is now.” Neal smiled and pulled out another chair to sit down.

Regina took the piece of paper Rumald held in his hand, suggesting to him. “Do you want me to pin this on your back?”

“If you could.” He sounded distracted as he answered her, but he turned his back to her, waiting for Belle with bated breath.

“Pins.” She requested holding her hand out, while she held the piece of paper against his back.

Rumald pulled pins from his lapel and placed them into her waiting hand, never taking his gaze from the entrance to the hall. When Regina was done pinning his number to his back, she patted him on the shoulder, but he was too preoccupied to notice.

Different couples and groups entered into the ballroom, drifting across the hall to their respected tables. Rumald noticed out of the corner of his eye, a few of the dancers were coming to the table. Loudly he huffed out a breath, growing impatient as he waited for Belle. He dared a quick glance at Regina, sat talking to Neal, wondering why Belle had not come down with Regina. It was impossible for him to check every face as they came and went from the room, but Rumald was trying nonetheless.

He felt someone touch his back and said over his shoulder to them. “Yeah?”

“Sit down, dad.” Neal urged, grabbing his father’s forearm to pull him.

Not wanting to miss her entering, Rumald pulled out a chair from the table and dropped down into it, snapping round in his chair to watch the entrance. Passed the entrance, Rumald could see there was activity up on the stage, where the judges were sat waiting patiently in a row. A man walked across the stage to the judges and bent over to chat to them, and then strolled confidentially to the front of the stage, lifting a mic up to his mouth.

“Good afternoon, ladies and gentlemen, and welcome to the Annual Autumn Boston Ballroom dance competition.” There was a round of applause from the different tables and the dancers scattered about the room. “Registration has now been closed. Can all participating dancers for the Quickstep, please make their way to the dancefloor.”

At the entrance to the hall, there was a flurry of activity with dancers entering and leaving the room. Straining to see in his seat, Rumald shifted his head from side to side, trying to spot her in case she came into the hall. The din in the room became quieter as the couples, competing in the Quickstep, found a space on the dancefloor. The crowd at the door started to disperse with many of them taking the empty seats of the dancers on the dancefloor. He was growing concerned Belle. Casting a quick glance over his shoulder, he saw Neal and Regina were still happily chatting to one another, catching up on old times.

“Hey,” Rumald called to Regina and she looked at him. “Where is she?”

“She’ll be down in a minute.” Regina reassured him. “Mal only had her makeup to do, when I left the room.”

Grumbling under his breath, he flung his gaze back to the entrance and Rumald’s world fell out from underneath him. There were no words that could have describe how beautiful she looked to Rumald. They would never do her justice. A long, drawn out sigh escaped him. Belle was hunting for them, searching the faces around each table for a familiar face. Unsteadily, Rumald got to his feet, supporting himself with the back of his chair, and stumbled as he tried to squeeze his way out from where he sat. He was not aware of the dancers on the dancefloor, quickly zooming pass him as he made his way to her. As far as Rumald was concerned, there was no one else in the room apart from Belle.

A few feet away from her, Belle gaze finally fell onto him, radiating a smile Rumald had never seen before. Her smile prevented him from taking another step towards her. Travelling his gaze down the length of her blue dress, down her legs to the heels – Rumald could only think of one word: Magnificent. His chest heaved while Belle approached him, lifting the skirt of her dress as she walked.

“You look so handsome, Rumald.” Belle told him with the skirt of her dress against his legs.

Rumald swallowed. “You’re… You’re breath-taking.”

Her cheeked bloomed in a deep rose colour, with the colour filtering down onto her neck. His eyes darted about her face, taking in every detail of her beauty as he breathed heavily in and out. Belle bashfully looked away from him and then back to him. He could not hide from her as he looked at her, his heart was an open book to her. Taking a brave step forward, she placed her hand on his face and stroked her thumb across the smooth skin of his cheek, smiling wide at him. Rumald would have reciprocated her caress, however he overpowered by her splendour and was unable to do anything but stare at her.

“Come on.” Belle dropped her hand down from his face and claimed his right hand. “Regina’s waving us over.”

Obediently, Rumald followed her back to the table and sat down in the chair beside Belle’s. While she greeted Neal and anyone else she knew at the table, Rumald gawked at her, trying to fathom, why such a beautiful creature, would ever want anything to do with him. Gazing at her face, Rumald was happily falling deeper in love with her, picturing the rest of his life with her by his side.

“Dad.” Neal called his name.

Rumald blinked his eyes and moved his gaze to his son. “Sorry, what?”

“They’ve just announced the Waltz will be after the Jive.” Neal informed his father, randomly pointing to the dancefloor. “They’re just doing the second round for the Quickstep.”

Turning in his chair to see the dancefloor, sitting sideways in his chair, Rumald suddenly remembered why they were there as he watched the last five couples dance the Quickstep. A hand rested on his shoulder. Twisting his head to see whose hand it was, Rumald smiled seeing Belle rest her chin on top of her hand. She was watching the couples on the dancefloor.

“Anyone for a drink?” Regina said standing up from their table.

“Coke, please.” Belle briefly lifted her chin to say her order and returned to perch on his shoulder.

“I’ll come and help you.” Neal said pushing back his chair and said to Rumald. “Whiskey, dad?”

Rumald shook his head at his son as he watched the dancers, secretly loving how comfortable Belle was to rest herself against him. Neal met with Regina in front of their table, sharing a knowing look between them before they walked to the bar. Feeling Belle’s weight shift on his shoulder, her warm breath washed over the side of his neck.

“I don’t want this weekend to end.” She whispered into his ear.

Crooking his head to see her face, Rumald could see there was trace of sadness in her eyes and said. “It doesn’t have to end, if you don’t want it to.”

Her lips drew into a thin line, pondering over what Rumald had said to her. The truth was always the most difficult to swallow and with everything she had back in Storybrooke, it was even harder to swallow. Rumald knew, no matter how she felt about Gaston and him, her decision was always going to be tough.

Before they had met two months ago, Belle had her life planned out ahead of herself: a fiancé, a job, dreams of starting a family, spending the rest of her life with Gaston. Then, of course, she had met Rumald and everything had turned on its head, especially for Rumald. He would have been happy, living out the rest of his days on his own. His business had been enough to keep him occupied, but now… After meeting Belle… Rumald saw a new path for himself, where she would be his wife and if he dared to hope, children.

The weight of her eased off his shoulder and Rumald glanced back to see she was sitting back into her chair, watching the Quickstep come to an end. There was a roar of applause and cheers for the couples. Belle clapped gleefully for them, lifting her chin to get a better view of them as the winner was announce.

“Here you go, dad.” Neal said to Rumald, placing a drink down in front of his father.

Rumald snapped his head round and saw a glass of whiskey in front of him, said. “I didn’t want one.”

“I got it in case you got nervous.” Neal explained to his father as he gave someone else their drink at the table.

“I did tell him you don’t get nervous.” Regina commented and placed a drink in front of Belle. “Here you go.”

“Thank you.” Belle smiled and sipped her drink.

Mal dumped a chair down at their table and gestured at the others to give her some room at the table, as she told Belle. “Don’t get drinking too much of that. You’ll be up and down to the bathroom.”

“Yeah, you don’t want to be doing that, when you’re dancing soon.” Regina agreed with Mal as she sat down in her chair.

The announcer came over the speakers, saying. “Can the entrants for the Jive, please make your way to the dancefloor, please?”

A couple from their table stood up and left their table, as Belle said behind him. “I’m starting to feel nervous now.”

“You’ll be okay.” Regina smiled and reached over to touch Belle’s upper arm.

Rumald shifted round on his chair to face the table and reached out to clasp her hand in her lap, squeezing her fingers and rubbing his thumb over the back of her hand, as he said to her. “Everyone in this room is nervous.” Leaning over to her, he added in a whisper. “Even me.”

“You said, you didn’t get nervous.” Belle whispered back to him, not sure if he wanted everyone at the table to know.

“I don’t normally.” He muttered to her, grinning. “But I wasn’t dancing with the most beautiful woman in the room before.”

Belle rolled her eyes and shook her head at him, though she smiled at his compliment and held his hand with both of her hands in her lap. Inclining himself further towards her, Rumald kissed her cheek and, looking into her eyes, he slowly leaned back to sit back into his chair. Her cheeks flushed again, but her gaze never wavered away from his. He gave her fingers a brief tight squeeze and turned his head to watch the couples dancing the Jive. Rumald did miss the look shared by Neal and Regina.

Twenty minutes later, the judges were picked their winning couple of the Jive and the announcer requested the couples for the Waltz, to take up their positions on the dancefloor. Rumald stood from his chair and offered his hand to help Belle stand up, while he pushed his chair under the table. Everyone around their table cheered for Belle as she followed Rumald out from their table, holding onto his hand for dear life. Rumald eyed the dancefloor for a good starting position. With a tug on her hand, Belle followed him helplessly as he marched to the other end of the dancefloor, glaring at the other couples. Reaching the spot, Rumald directed Belle, by her hand, to circle around him and let go of her hand, when she was stood where he wanted her. As Belle turned to face him, he could see in her eyes, she was anxious.

The Waltz music started to play. Rumald bowed his head and smiled across at her, as she curtsied, lifting the skirt of her dress. Extending his hand out of her, Rumald stood on his spot, waiting for her to come to him, and place her hand in his and take up her dancing position. In her dress, she glided across the floor to him and slid her hand into his waiting hand, and placed her hand onto his shoulder. Keeping his head still, he moved his gaze to watch her incline her head and assumed her position, looking over his shoulder, while he adjusted his hold on her hand, flexing his fingers to get a comfortable hold.

Rumald counted to three in his head and started the routine they had practised on Thursday night, side stepping into a forward streamline step. They flawlessly moved from the streamline step into the box step, where Rumald added a twirled and changed them into sideways streamline. As they performed three box steps together, Rumald grinned at how well she was doing, feeling no tension through her arms or her body, while he dipped her backwards supporting her in her lean. He counted the four seconds in his head and got to four at the same as she did, feeling her leaning up exactly when he started to help her. They spun from the lean and went into a backwards streamline step, with Rumald adding a twirl mid step. Rumald could see Belle was smiling, out of the corner of his eye, letting herself enjoy the moment.

An idea popped into Rumald’s head as they danced. What he was thinking was a little complex, but Rumald had faith in Belle and knew she could do it. Performing one last box step, Rumald decided to do the move in his head and twirled her to catch her against himself, her back pressed into his side with his arm wrapped around her and on her hip. Belle did not hesitate and held onto his hand, indifferent to her dancing frame being reversed. Rumald heard a very loud ‘woo’ from the direction of their table, but he paid it no attention as he guided Belle to waltz a couple of steps before enacting his idea.

As Belle waltzed forward, Rumald lifted their joined hands over the top of her head to twirl her, crossing their joined hands in front of them. She gave him a perplex look, but carried on dancing with him as Rumald turned himself, putting his back to Belle, while lifting their joined hands over the top of his head. He pivoted on his feet to face Belle, their arms crossed again in front of them. Rumald twirled Belle, lifting their joined hands above her head, and let go of one of her hands to catch her into his arm, putting her straight into another lean. Aiding Belle up from her lean, he guided her into a backwards streamline as the music came to an end.

There was a huge round of applause as the couples came to the end of their Waltzes. Letting go of her hand, Rumald pulled Belle into a hug, squeezing her against his chest as they swayed from side to side together. Belle wrapped her arms around Rumald’s neck and partly lifted herself up from the floor for a second. They leaned back, grinning like fools as they touched their foreheads together.

“I’m so proud of you!” Rumald stated to her. “You were amazing!”

Belle grabbed his face and kissed him hard on his lips. Shocked, Rumald did not move as she kissed him with her eyes tightly shut, unable to comprehend what was happening to him. Breaking the kiss, Belle sheepishly looked into his eyes, holding his face between her hands. He stood looking at her. A slow smile pushed back Belle’s cheeks, while she stroked a thumb across his cheek. Shaking his head to rid himself of his daze, Rumald blinked his eyes and met Belle’s gaze properly, and returned her smile.

“Can couples, one-two-six, five-eight-four, three-nine-seven, three-six-zero and seven-four-four remain on the dancefloor.” The announcer said through the microphone.

“What number are we?” Belle asked him, slipping her hands down from his face to his chest.

Rumald felt drunk as he answered her. “I have no idea.”

She rolled her eyes at him and grabbed his shoulder, forcing him to turn round to read the number on his back. “Oh my god! We’re seven-four-four!”

“What!” Rumald exclaimed, awkwardly trying to see the number over his shoulder.

“What do we do!” Belle quietly cried at him, panicking.

“Are you sure?” Rumald pulled at the shoulder of his suit jacket to see the number on his back.

Belle grabbed him by his upper arms and shook him. “What do we do!”

“Don’t panic, for a start.” He told her, holding onto her elbows as he looked round for clarification.

Looking round the dancefloor, Rumald saw there were only four other couples on the dancefloor and everyone at their table were stood on their feet, gawking across the hall at them. ‘ _Well… That was unexpected.’,_ he thought to himself, deducting they were the fifth couple to get through. Hastily, Rumald pulled Belle across the dancefloor, claiming some more of the dancefloor for themselves.

“What do we do?” Belle asked him, pressing her fingertips into his arms.

“We dance.” was the only response Rumald had for her.

Rumald left her on the spot he had placed her and took two steps back from her, glancing round to see where the other couples were positioning themselves. The music started to play. Again, Rumald bowed his head to her as Belle curtsied in front of him. Instead of offering his hand to her, Rumald changed it by moving to Belle and took her hand as she offered it up to him. Buying himself some time to think, he swished her from side to side before he directed her to twirl and moved into a forward streamline.

With a routine in his head, Rumald turned her away from him at the end of their streamline and stepped against her, standing still together, and guided her left arm to hook around the back of his neck. Placing his hands above her hips, he guided her to step side to side with him, while he repositioned his arm around her waist to lift her and spun on the spot, with her head resting back onto his shoulder. Carefully putting her down, Rumald claimed her hand from his neck and escorted her to step away from him, so he could pull her back to retake their original dancing position.

They waltzed together, pivoting as they danced. Lifting their joined hands, Rumald guided her to step through, underneath their hands, to turn back around and into Rumald, changing into a sideways streamline. At the end of their streamline, Rumald guided her to do the same turn again, stepping through underneath their joined hands and followed her through, turning them back in the direction they had come from, breaking out into pivoting box step.

Guessing they were near the end of the song, Rumald started to turn with Belle and used their frame to lift her off of her feet, continuing the turn. She giggled, leaning her weight onto him. Rumald chuckled as he gazed at her, still astounded by her beauty. The music died off and Rumald lowered Belle to her feet and twirled her once more, stopping her on the exact point the song ended. The room broke out into applause, accompanied with cheers from different tables around the room.

Rumald panted letting go of Belle’s hand and dropped his arms down to his sides, resting his hands on his hips. Excitedly, Belle bounded the two steps back to him and grabbed the lapels of his suit jacket. Too tired to think, he bowed his head down, taking the moment to catch his breath.

“Now what?” Belle questioned, tugging at his lapels.

“We wait.” Rumald said lifting his head up.

Belle let go of his suit jacket and gazed at the other couples, also waiting to hear the result. Breathing out heavily, Rumald pivoted round to see the stage where the judges were sat, huddled together, whispering to each other. The announcer was stood in front of judges table, listening to the debate. Rumald turned his gaze onto Belle, after she had taken his right hand from his hip and laced their fingers together, and covered the back of his hand with her other hand. He gave her fingers a reassuring squeeze and smiled, when she flicked her gaze from the judges to him.

The announcer began to call out the results, reading them out from the card in his hand. “In fifth place is three-nine-seven, in fourth place is one-two-six,” Belle’s grip on his hand became like a vice, clamping down on his hand. “In third place is seven-four-four.”

Squealing at their number being announced, Belle threw herself at Rumald, forcing him to catch her in his arms as she jumped at him. Bewildered, Rumald just held onto her, while she shrieked over and over that they had come third. He decided, it was a blessing that they had not won first place, if this was her response to winning third place. Belle latched her arms around his neck, snuggling her face into the side of his, continuously muttering they had won third place into his ear. Indifferent to the dance competition result, Rumald was enjoying the end result of her being in his arms, hugging her without a care for anyone else in the hall. Though, the announcer was requesting the dancefloor to be vacated for the Rumba, but Rumald could not care, not with Belle in his arms.

“You two, come on.” Regina grabbed his arm and tried to drag them off the dancefloor.

Rumald put Belle down and took hold of her hand, towing her behind him as Regina escorted them to their table. Everyone around their table were on their feet, clapping their hands and smiling at them. Courtesy to Belle, Rumald ushered her in front of him, putting all of the limelight on her. He joined everyone in clapping for Belle, grinning at her, while she curtsied to the table.

“Very well done, Miss French.” Regina put her arm around Belle’s shoulders. “Third place at your first competition, that’s very good.”

Belle twisted to see Rumald and said. “I couldn’t have done it without Rumald.”

“No, sweetheart, you’d have done it without me.” Rumald rejected sharing the attention with her.

“It takes two, Rumald.” Regina angled her head to see Rumald on the other side of Belle.

“Well done, both of you.” Neal smiled broadly at his father. “You guys were terrific!”

Rumald smiled softly at his son. “Thank you, son.”

“Come on, let’s sit down.” Belle leaned into him to say as she grasped his left hand.

Simply nodding in agreement with her, Rumald allowed her to lead him around the table to the empty seats next to Neal. He shifted by her before she got to the first chair and pulled it out for her, helping her to sit down, and sat down in-between her and Neal. Slapping his hand onto his father’s back, Neal half hugged his father and kissed his father’s cheek, congratulating his father again on getting third place. Rumald touched Neal’s arm across his chest, grateful for his son coming, as Belle placed the glass of whiskey, Neal had gotten Rumald earlier, in front of him. Glancing between Belle and Neal, Rumald smiled, thankful to have both of them in life.


	29. Chapter 29

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The after party...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Song:  
> Katy Perry – Cry About It Later

After the competition had ended and the trophies had been given out, Rumald and Belle had gone back to the suite to change, organising to meet with Regina and Neal in the lobby at six. Sat in the armchair, removing his dance shoes, Rumald breathed out heavily, feeling tired from a lack of sleep and dancing with Belle. If it had been his choice, Rumald would have been voting to go to bed, but Belle deserved a night out to celebrate. Even after having a few hours to wrapped his head around it, Rumald still could not believe, they had gotten third place as he tossed his shoe to join the other one by his suitcase. He sat back into the armchair and rested his head back on the edge of the armchair, raising his arms above his head to stretch his back. Lowering his arms down from his stretch, he lifted his head to lace his fingers behind his head, cushioning his head while he relaxed.

From where he sat, Rumald could hear Belle was moving around in the bedroom area, talking to someone on the phone. She had called Gaston as soon as they had arrived in the room, excited to tell him her news, but the call had been short. Whatever Gaston was doing, or whoever he was doing, was more interesting than talking to his fiancé, was what Rumald had gathered. He guessed she had called Ruby afterwards and was still on the phone.

Rumald looked down at his socked feet and lifted them onto the coffee table, crossing his feet over one another. It was the first chance he had gotten all week to relax. He had forgotten, how busy his week used to be, split between working during the day and practising in the evenings. It was sour reminded of how he had forgotten Neal. The quality time he should have spent with his son, had been spent with Cora. He closed his eyes at the thought, regretting every minute he had missed with his son. That regret was the reason, Rumald did not want to start dancing or teaching again, no matter how much he had enjoyed teaching and dancing with Belle.

Hearing a loud clunk from the bedroom, Rumald opened his eyes and turned his head to see down the small corridor. The reflection in the windows made Rumald freeze in position. Belle was stood with her phone to her ear, dressed only in dark blue underwear, brazenly on displayed to everyone, who could see into their suite. She was smiling as she talked and held a dark blue dress up in front of herself. Sitting up in the armchair, Rumald tore his gaze away from the windows and scolded himself for spying on her. He gripped the ends of the armrests, fighting with the urge to look back at her reflection again. ‘ _She deserves better.’_ , he told himself launching himself out of the armchair and grabbed the clothes he had selected earlier, taking them with him into the bathroom for a very long, cold shower.

He checked his appearance in the mirror as he repositioned his tie. Closing the flaps of his suit jacket, Rumald turned to the bathroom door and unlocked to exit into the sitting area. Belle was smiled instantly at him, sat in the armchair he had been sitting in earlier, her legs crossed with her clutch purse lying in her lap.

Rumald avoided looking at her and pulled back his sleeve from his watch, checking the time as he said. “We’ve got time for a quick drink. Would you like one?”

“No, I’ll wait ‘til dinner.” She said as he went to the mini bar to pour himself a whiskey.

As he sipped his whiskey, Rumald stood in the opening of the passageway and rested his shoulder against the edge of the wall. He observed her, while she opened her clutch purse to check its contents and closed it again. His gaze drifted down to her legs, admiring them whilst he drank from his whiskey.

“Ruby can’t believe, we got third place.” Belle revealed to him, resting her hands on top of her clutch purse in her lap.

“She’s not the only one.” Rumald commented, coming out of the passageway, and sat down onto the couch.

Belle bent forward in her seat, running her hand down the front of her bare right leg, as she said. “My father suggested you paid them off.”

“Ridiculous.” He said following her hand down and then back up her leg, asking her. “What did your fiancé have to say?”

Her hand stopped at her knee and Rumald lifted his gaze from her hand to face, while she replied. “Gaston wasn’t able to talk.”

“Really, dearie?” Rumald turned his head partly to the side. “His first phone call from his fiancée, whose away with another man, and he wasn’t able to talk?”

“He was busy.” Belle told him, sitting back into the armchair.

“If you were my fiancée, you’d have my undivided attention, no matter what I was doing.” He admitted to her.

She dropped her gaze down to her purse, rubbing her thumb at something on the exterior of her purse, her brow scrunched as she did it. Sitting back into the cushions of the couch, crossing his legs, Rumald sipped his whiskey, eyeing her over the rim of his glass. He could see, she was quietly smouldering at the mention of Gaston. The invitation, to push her buttons on the subject, was right there in front of him. If it had been any other night, Rumald would have gladly ploughed on, stabbing and jabbing her buttons to get a response from her. However, at the thought of ruining her day, Rumald receded back from the chance. Depending on how their weekend worked out, this might be the only quality time, Rumald ever got to spend with Belle.

“His lost, sweetheart, because you were outstanding.” Rumald declared her.

Belle raised her gaze to him, blushing at his compliment. “We both were.”

He cracked half a smile at her, admiring her. Under the scrutiny of his gaze, Belle shyly looked away from him, dropping her gaze down to her clutch purse. Rumald kept his gaze on her, as he drank the remains of his whiskey and ran his tongue along the edge of his top lip, imagining he was running the tip of his tongue up her leg. He could not help his thoughts. Her undressed reflection was imprinted into his mind.

“It’s a shame, there’s only one trophy.” She spoke down at her clutch purse.

“Not at all.” Rumald got up from the couch, checking the time on his wrist, while he took his glass back to the passageway, saying to her. “You keep it.”

Belle lifted her head to look at him in the passageway. “But, we both earned it.”

Approaching her in the armchair, Rumald offered his hand to her and helped her stand up, stating to her when she was head height with him. “You keep the trophy. A small memento of our time together.”

“You make it sound like, I won’t see you after our lessons have finished.” She said with her eyebrows low over her eyes, a slight pout to her lips.

“Sadly, sweetheart, that’s probably what will happen.” He said to her, as he lifted his right hand and caressed her smooth cheek with the backs of his fingers. “Your fiancé has made it quite clear, he doesn’t want me near you.”

The sad look to her face remained, while she gave him a questioning look. “He has?”

“Many times.” Rumald stroked the edge of his thumb down the side of her face.

They held each other’s gazes, staring openly at each other. Rumald retracted his hand from her face, trailing his touch to edge of her jaw, dropping his hand down to his side. Her clutch purse was held tightly to her stomach, her knuckles white where was clenching it so hard. Gazing at her, his yearn to lean forward and lightly kiss her lips was strong, as if someone was shoving him towards her. But, Rumald titled his head back, holding himself back, and took a step back from her as well, growing the distance between them.

“We better go.” He stepped aside, waving his arm to the door. “Neal and Regina will be waiting for us.”

Belle blinked her eyes a couple of times, lowered her head briefly, before she ambled by him, clutching at her purse with both hands. Falling into step behind her, he denied himself the chance to eye her legs and caught the edge of the door after Belle opened it, glancing back at him. He urged her out into the corridor, gently pressing his hand to her lower back, and pulled the door to behind him. While they were setting off down the corridor, Belle twisted herself to hooked her arm around Rumald’s arm, walking very close to his side. Angling his head to glimpse at her beside him, Rumald could see her thoughts were troubling her by the look on her face. He moved his gaze away from her to the corridor ahead of them, despising himself and his scheming.

They travelled down in the elevator in silence, stood together at the back of the elevator, quietly pondering their own thoughts. A heavy feeling of regret dwelled in Rumald’s gut. For the last five weeks, his goal had been to get Belle away from Gaston and into his arms. Now, all he had to do, was gently tiptoe her to the point of facing her feelings and to make a decision. What Rumald did not understand, after letting things naturally develop between Belle and him, was why he felt so awful at the prospect of her making her choice. Fear, insecurity, abandonment issues and many other reasons – Rumald was spoilt for a reason.

The elevator came to a stop and pinged to signal they had reached their floor. Sharing a glimpse at each other, Rumald showed her a small smile, mostly trying to hide his feelings, and encircled his arm around her back, shepherding her out of the elevator. Belle did not waste time, once they were out of the elevator, recapturing his arm with her own, while their legs brushed against one another. Genuinely, Rumald smiled laying his hand on top of hers, resting in the crook of his arm.

As they came from the elevators into the lobby, they spotted Regina and Neal and walked over to where the pair were chatting. Regina saw them approaching and touched Neal’s out before she gestured to Rumald and Belle.

“I was about to send a search party for the two of you.” Regina told them, smiling her wicked smile.

Rumald narrowed his eyes at Regina, as they came to stop in front of them. “Really, dearie?”

“Are we late?” Belle directed her question to Rumald, while she took hold of his left hand and checked his watch.

“No doubt, it was my father.” Neal rolled his eyes. “He takes forever to get ready. Worse than an ex-girlfriend of mine, who took two hours to get ready.”

“Excuse me?” Rumald snapped his gaze to Neal, who was grinning at his father.

“We’re only teasing.” Neal said stepping closer to his father, clamping a hand down onto his father’s right shoulder.

While Belle giggled beside him, bouncing her gaze from Regina to Neal, Rumald crooked his eyebrow at his son, considering whether his son was too old, for a slap around the back of his head.

Neal chuckled at his father. “Come on. Let’s get some food.”

Shaking his head at his son, unamused but forgiving, Rumald followed behind his son, glancing at Belle next to him. She was smiling again and Rumald was thankful, she had found the small ruse amusing, even if it was at his expense. Though, he would pay anything, if it meant she would always smile. Rumald knew, he would pay any price for her happiness, trading his own life for it. Belle turned her head to look at him, consciously she gently squeezed at his arm, her smile widened at him. His heart began to ache, foreseeing the stress she would go through soon, wanting desperately to do the right thing.

Rumald soothed his hand over the top of hers, clasped around his arm, and gazed round the busy restaurant as they entered. Regina halted, roaming her gaze over the crowded tables. They walked by her, following Neal to the Maître d’. Neal smiled pleasantly at the Maître d’ and angled himself forward to see the waiting list on the Maître d’s podium.

“Can I help you, sir?” The Maître d’ inquired, eyeing Neal.

“Table for four.” Neal responded to the question, standing up to his full height, still showing the Maître d’ a smile.

Maître d’ ran his eyes down his list and said. “There’s a half an hour wait for a table, sir. If you’d like to wait in the bar, sir, I can add your name to my list and call you when I have table available?”

“Gold.” Neal said to the Maître d’.

Rumald turned to find Regina, unintentionally pulling his arm from Belle’s hold, and said to Regina, who was sauntering up to where they stood. “There’s a half an hour wait.”

“I believe it’s your round, Rumald.” Regina smiled wickedly, flashing her eyes at him.

“Course it is, dearie.” Rumald faked a smile at her.

Belle touched the top of his arm, causing him to turn to face her, as she offered. “Let me get these drinks.” She gestured with her clutch purse at Rumald and Regina. “I know I can never give you back, the money, you’ve both spent on me, so let me buy you both a drink.”

Regina laid her hand on Rumald’s shoulder. “Rumald’s paid for most of it. I only got you your room and you’ve had to share it with this one.”

“Yeah, but that suite wasn’t cheap.” Belle pulled a face at Regina, tickled by Regina’s response, and wandered off to the bar to meet with Neal.

“Suite?” Regina’s eyes were wide with shock.

Rumald shrugged his shoulder, beginning to follow Belle, as he responded. “I upgraded.”

“You could’ve upgraded mine too.” Regina told him, catching up with him.

“And what would I get out of that?” Rumald asked her, eyeing her next to him.

Regina nudged her shoulder into his shoulder. “The gratification that I was in a nice room.”

“Oh, no, dearie.” He wagged his finger at her. “There’s always a price for these things.”

“Yeah, don’t I know it.” Regina huffed.

Rumald grinned at Regina as he came up to the bar to stand beside Belle, her back to him, while she twisted to see Regina. “What are you drinking, Regina?”

“Whiskey, if you don’t mind, Belle.” Regina said sweetly with a smile.

She leaned back without looking for him, sensing he was behind her, and directed her question over her shoulder to him. “Rumald?”

Rumald placed his hand on her bare upper arm, feeling her skin erupt with Goosebumps at his touch, as he said. “No, thank you, sweetheart.”

“Are you sure?” Belle coiled herself, pressing her shoulder into his chest.

He smiled at her offer. “You can get me one later.”

She stayed with her shoulder resting against him, telling the barman Regina’s order, while she clicked open her purse to retrieve her money. With her being so close, Rumald took advantage of her closeness and smelled her hair, relaxing to the smell of lavender and a hint of jasmine and… Vanilla. Not familiar with the new smell of her, Rumald breathed in her scent again, angling himself further against her back, making sure he was smelling her and not confusing it with Regina. He knew he had gone too far, when he felt her soft, luscious hair tickling the end of his nose, but he had to be sure. She always smelled lovely, but the new fragrance was absolutely divine on her. A hand touched side of his thigh and Rumald jolted his head back from her, spying down to see Belle’s hand on his leg, hidden from everyone else by the bar. Grinning like an absolute fool, he shifted closer against her, if it was even possible, and leant his weight onto his elbow on the bar’s edge.

The barman placed Belle’s order on the bar and she paid him, while handing Neal and Regina their drinks in turn. Rumald leaned up off his arm and reached around her to grab her drink, carrying it to the table for her. Leaving her at the bar to follow Neal and Regina, to the table they had claimed, Rumald kept a watchful eye on Belle as she collected her change and tipped the barman.

“Since you and Belle did so well, dad.” Neal had look on his face, which told Rumald, his son was up to no good. “Does this mean you’re going to start professionally dancing again?”

“No.” Rumald’s answer was short and sweet.

It was Regina’s turn, while Rumald placed Belle’s drink onto the table and pulled out a chair for her as she arrived at the table, to hear Regina say. “If Belle does, decide to carry on her lessons after her wedding, who else is going to dance with her?”

“Her future husband?” Rumald suggested as he sat down at the table, liking how his answer did not exclude him.

“Hang on,” Neal held his hand up. “Belle’s getting married? When?”

Belle put her drink down, after drinking from it, and answered Neal’s question. “Next Sunday, actually.”

“Really?” Neal exclaimed, his gaze on his father.

Avoiding the disappointed look, Neal was giving him, Rumald shifted in his seat under his son’s gaze, facing himself in favour of Belle. Regina was asking Belle about her wedding day, wanting to know the nitty gritty details. Happily, Belle answered each question, explaining her choices and her reason for picking them. Rumald was absolutely not interested. He did not want to hear about the glorious day, Belle had planned for herself and Gaston. Though as she described the setting to Regina, Rumald imagined how the church and everyone would look on the day. The flower arranged perfectly, everyone dressed in their Sunday best, Belle looking beautiful as always with her quarter back fiancé beside her at the altar. However, in Rumald’s vision, he would burst through the doors, proclaiming his love for her and ending the façade, they called a relationship.

Belle touched his hand on the table, causing Rumald to jump from his daydream, as she said to him. “You’re going to come, aren’t you?”

“Come to what?” Rumald posed, awkwardly eyeing each of them around the table.

“My wedding.” She said to him.

“Oh, well…” He started to make an excuse, but stumbled with his words, seeing the hope in her eyes. “I… I… I’ll try. I might be… doing something.”

Regina smirked, saying before she drank from her whiskey. “Sounds vague.”

Kicking his foot out underneath the table at Regina, he smirked at her jerking on her chair, while he lied. “If you must know, I’m going to be in New York next weekend. I might not be back, if the deal goes my way.”

“New York?” Belle eyes widened at the prospect.

“It’s not that exciting, Belle.” Neal interjected before Rumald could talk.

Belle shook her head at Neal, saying. “It is, when you haven’t been there.”

“I’m sure, we could find a competition in New York that you and Rumald could compete in.” Regina’s grin was wide, showing off her pearly white teeth. 

“I’ve already said, I’m not danc…” Rumald stopped mid-sentence, noticing the Maître d’ was stood by him.

“I have a table available.” The Maître d’ said, waving his arm towards the restaurant.

Regina was the first one up from their table, taking her glass with her, as she said. “Good, I’m starving.”

“I can second that.” Belle said with Rumald aiding her to stand, pulling her chair back as she stood.

She waltzed off ahead of Rumald, trailing after Regina and the Maître d’, unsuspecting she had left Rumald at the table to be accosted by his son. Rumald had been about to take a step after Belle, but Neal grabbed Rumald by his arm and pulled him back, turning him to face his son.

“You’re having an affair with Belle, aren’t you?” Neal demanded, more than asked.

“No, I’m not having an affair with Belle.” Rumald glowered at his son.

Neal threw his hand after Belle. “I have eyes, dad! You two are literally all over each other, touching and kissing each other. I’m not stupid!”

“I am not having an affair with Belle.” Rumald repeated himself, though he really wished he was at this point.

“You want me to believe, it’s purely platonic between you?” Neal requested an answer from his father.

“What I want you to do, is believe me, when I tell you the truth.” Rumald sneered at his son and snatched his arm out of his son’s grip. “I won’t lie to you, son, I do have feelings for her, but I have not acted on them.”

Neal braced his hands onto his hips, saying. “I just don’t want you getting hurt again, like you did with Cora.”

Rumald laughed and said to Neal, placing a hand on his son’s shoulder. “I’m sorry, son, but it’s a risk I’m willing to take for her.” Moving his hand from his son’s shoulder to his son’s face, he went on to say to Neal. “You can’t hide away from love, Neal, just because you might get hurt. Don’t use my failure of a love life to not have one of your own.” Neal knitted his brow at his father’s words. “Don’t think, I haven’t noticed that you’re not with anyone. Or the fact, when you’re in Storybrooke, you look for Emma.”

“Dad, that was a long time ago.” Neal reached up to grab his father’s wrist, pulling Rumald’s hand down from his face.

“It’s never too late. Not if it’s meant to be.” Rumald brought his other hand up and cupped Neal’s face, refusing to let Neal take his hand away from his son’s face.

Neal had an amused look on his face as he said to Rumald. “When did you become a romantic?”

“Round about the time I met Belle.” He nodded his head to the side and smirked at what he had said to Neal.

Belle had done this too him, he was sure of it. She had danced her way into his life, bringing light into his dark world and had given him hope for a future. Until his thoughts earlier in the day, dreaming of marriage and children, Rumald had never given his future much thought. Growing his fortune, his empire, had been the most important thing in his life. Rumald realised, as he gazed at his son’s face, cupped in his hands, that all he had done was replace dance with his business. He still had not been there for his son, using his fear of rejection to keep his son at a distance. _‘Things need to be different.’_ , Rumald declared to himself.

After stroking his thumb over Neal’s cheek, Rumald pulled his son down and hugged him, cradling the back of the Neal’s head. Releasing his son from their hug, he ambled away from his son, gesturing with his head to the restaurant. The Maître d’ showed them to the table, he had seated Belle and Regina, and departed as soon as he had arrived, leaving them to seat themselves. Belle gave Rumald an expectant look, intrigued where Rumald and Neal had been, but all he offered her as explanation was a smile.

While they had laughed and chatted over dinner, Rumald had vaguely been listening to the stories Neal and Regina had been sharing with Belle. Regaling the time, Neal had taken his first and only ballroom class and had been partnered with Regina, stepping on her toes and falling over together. Sat back in his chair, nursing a glass of wine, Rumald had only eyes for Belle, loving the way she laughed wholeheartedly at their stories. He felt so light, listening to the joyous sound of her giggle. By the time, they had finished desert and Rumald had finally drank his glass of wine, he longed for Neal to remember another story, prolonging their dinner.

Regina picked her napkin up from her lap and laid it on the table, asking. “Are we going to the after party?”

“After party?” Belle repeated, looking around the table.

“I never used to go to them.” Rumald commented, while their server collected their desert plates from their table and paused collecting Rumald’s, as he said to her. “Can you bring the bill, please?”

“Yes, sir.” She quietly answered, quickly collecting Rumald’s and Neal’s plates to disappear to the kitchen.

Neal knocked back the last of the wine in his glass. “Could be fun, dad.”

“You’ll have to be my date, Neal.” Regina held her glass up, ready to finish her wine, as she said. “Otherwise, they won’t let you in.”

Their server returned, placing a small plate with a booklet, next to Rumald’s place setting. Picking up the booklet, Rumald opened it to see the bill as he claimed his money clip from his pocket. He laid the booklet, open, onto the small plate and counted out the money, while the other’s chatted and watched him paid the bill.

“Oh, let me give you some money towards it.” Belle said grabbing her purse up from the table, clicking it open.

“I appreciate the offer, Belle, but I’m happy to pay.” Rumald placed his hand on top of her hands as he said it, stilling her from retrieving her money from her purse.

She frowned at him, but clicked her clutch purse closed underneath his hand. The corner of Rumald’s lip twitched with a grin, seeing the tell-tale of Belle’s annoyance, while he retracted his hand from over hers and laid it casually onto the table, easily holding her glare. There she was, giving him another opportunity to push her buttons, daring her vixen to come out and play.

“Shall we go?” Regina questioned the table, moving her chair back from the table.

Neal picked his napkin up from his lap and discarded it to the table as he stood, saying. “Sure.”

Rumald got up from the table, tugging down his waistcoat, and took the single step closer to Belle, holding his hand out to aid her, which she declined. Slightly squinting his eyes at her, he felt a shift in her demeanour, while she stepped out from her chair, putting the chair between them. His eyebrows shrugged up his forehead, surprised by the change in Belle. He followed her with his eyes as she waltzed off away from him, following behind Regina and Neal. Speedily Rumald negotiated the table and met with Belle at the next table, lightly grasping her arm.

“Are you okay?” He asked, awkwardly straining to see round her to her face.

“I’m fine.” Belle barked her reply at him.

They were in the entry way to the restaurant, when Rumald used his hold on her arm to pull her to stop and around to face him, saying to her. “What’s wrong?”

“I just wanted to contribute.” A hint of her frustration came out, as she wildly waved her hand at the restaurant, telling him. “I tried to buy you a drink, to says thanks, and you refused. I offered to put some money to the bill, but you refused that as well.” She paused and let out a frustrated sigh. “I feel so bad, because you bought my dresses and, so far, every meal we’ve had this weekend. It’s frustrating, because I’m so used to paying my own way.”

“I’m sorry.” He said, though he was smirking. “It’s just my way of thanking you.”

“Thanking me?” Belle questioned, shifting her weight on her hip, crossing her arms over her chest.

Rumald edged closer to her, while his grin broadened at her repeating what he had said, and said to her, placing his hands on her upper arms. “You’ve shown me a kindness that I rarely see these days.” His smile left his face as he became serious. “You haven’t treated me any different, even after hearing the rumours and truths about me. And for that, I could never repay you.”

She unfolded her arms and cupped a hand to his cheek, telling him. “I told you, I don’t judge a book by its cover.”

The corners of his lips turned up, remembering the night she had come to his house, muttering to her. “Yes, you did.”

Skimming his hands up her arms and onto her face, Rumald angled himself into her, bringing their faces close together. He felt her warm breath wash over his chin as he stilled less than an inch from her face, checking for any signs of resistance in her eyes. Her lips parted, her breathing increased, her face came closer to him with her eyes closing in anticipation. Seeing she was eager for a kiss, Rumald held her face steady and pressed his lips to the corner of mouth. His eyes were open as he kissed her, allowing him to see her eyes shoot open, revealing her disappointment to him.

He leaned back from her and dropped one of his hands from her face, while turning over his other hand to caress her cheek. “We better catch up with Neal and Regina.”

“Yeah… We should.” Belle sounded distant as she spoke.

Rumald chuckled claiming her hand that had lingered on his cheek, using her hand to lead her from the restaurant to the lobby. Glancing at her, he pulled her closer and wrapped the hand he held around his arm, bringing her into his side. She complied with him, walking with him through the lobby, a bewildered look on her face. He studied her face, enjoying the effect his small, insignificant kiss had on her. Pleased with himself, Rumald held his head high, while they sauntered down the corridor to the hall to where the competition had been held earlier.

His smile wavered somewhat and his brow scrunched, glimpsing at her to see a small smile on her face. Though he had seen in her face, her willingness for him to kiss her, Rumald could not believe she actually wanted him. Years of doubt and abandonment, bubbled to the surface and overpowered everything else he was feeling and knew to be true. He diverted his gaze away from her, asking himself, how could she possibly want him? Why would she? To some women, Belle had it all. She had the quarter back fiancé, a job she loves, friends and her life still ahead of her. Why would any young woman want him? He was old, a monster and had nothing but his wealth to offer her. ‘ _I’m interested in you for you’_ , her words broke through his thoughts, stilling his mind from delving deeper into the darkness.

They rounded the corner in the corridor, coming face to face with a large queue, waiting to be admitted to the after party. He glanced down briefly at Belle huddling closer into him, trying to stay out of the way of the people squeezing by them. His heart ached, while Rumald gazed at her, musing over her beauty. For her, he could be better, could be the man she deserved. He would change everything for her, if it would make her happy. Breathing in deeply, Rumald felt a peace come over him, his dark thoughts were far from his mind, whilst he dreamt of a life with Belle.

Moving with the queue, Rumald smiled at his daydream, laying his hand over Belle’s on his arm, earning himself a glance from Belle. He did not meet her gaze, slanting his head to see by the people in front of them to see how they were from the front. A few couples in front of them, he saw Regina and Neal in the queue, keenly chatting to one another.

“I’m not looking forward to Monday.” Belle suddenly blurted out, gaining Rumald’s attention.

Rumald raised an eyebrow at her. “Why?”

“It’s just going to be long day.” She informed him and went on further to tell him her day. “I’ve got a meeting with the principal, at the high school, in the morning. I’ve got to talk to Grannie about cakes. Got a delivery of books to add to the system. A meeting with the mayor. And then, to top things off, I’ve got to help my father with his books. Probably be a late night, like last time.”

Belle had lost him after mentioning, she needed to talk to Grannie about cakes. A simple, innocent sentence had been a hard, vicious slap to Rumald’s face, reminding him, he only had her for the weekend. ‘ _Coward.’_ , Rumald cursed himself, turning his face away from her to let out a small growl. This weekend was his only real chance. Rumald was wasting time, treading lightly with her, tiptoeing on the cusped of moving things forward between them. He needed to do something. Rumald had to stop hiding and make his intentions known to her, or this weekend would be the end of him.

They were a couple from entering the hall, the attendant checked off the names of the people in front of them and waved for them to enter. They stepped forward and gave their names to the attendant, who found their names, ticked them off and granted them entry with a wave of their hand.

Stood just inside the open doorway to the hall, Rumald ran his gaze over the crowd, seeing only bobbing heads on the dancefloor as everyone danced to the music. Slowly moving through the people mingling near the dancefloor, he searched the tables and the dancefloor for Neal and Regina, straining his eyes to find them. He knocked into someone, apologised, and carried on indifferent, dragging Belle behind him. Working his way to the other side of the room, Rumald halted and looked back to where he had come from, checking in case they had passed by them. His frown grew, sweeping his gaze over the room again.

“Hey!” Someone clamped their hand down onto his shoulder.

Rumald whipped round to find Neal behind him, pointing to a table in the corner of the room. “We’re over there.”

“Okay.” Rumald acknowledge and then said to Neal. “Where’re you going?”

“The bar.” Neal hooked his thumb to the bar.

Belle tugged on Rumald’s arm, gaining his attention, saying to him. “I’m going with Neal.”

“Okay.” He observed her, struggling to follow Neal through the crowd. 

Rumald excused himself through the crowd, heading to the table Neal had indicated. Closing in on the table, Neal had indicated, Rumald could see Regina and someone else sat at the table. Regina saw him approaching and hurriedly waved her hand, motioning for him to take the empty seat next to the person beside her. Rumald pulled out the chair and sat down, coming face to face with Jefferson.

“Surprised to see you here.” Rumald raised his voice, so Jefferson could hear him.

“Just making the rounds.” Jefferson said, angling himself in Rumald’s favour. “Making sure clients are happy.”

Rumald got more comfortable in his seat, adjusting his suit jacket, as he responded. “Customers are never happy.”

Regina sat forward and grabbed a glass from the table, and passed it to Rumald. “I got you a whiskey.”

“Thank you.” He said moving the glass closer.

“Actually, Rumald, I was wondering, if I could talk a bit of business with you.” Jefferson said to him, hooking his finger around the neck of his beer bottle.

Rumald scrunched his face, struggling to hear Jefferson properly with the music and the din of chatter. “Not really the best place to discuss it.”

“We could go out to the bar?” Jefferson suggested, pointing to the entrance of the hall.

“Is it going to take long?” Rumald twisted his head to look for Belle, tempted to leave and talk business with Jefferson.

“It shouldn’t.” Jefferson shook his head as he spoke.

Grabbing his glass of whiskey, Rumald stood up, saying to Regina, while Jefferson got up too. “Tell Belle, I’ll be right back.”

As they were leaving the room, cutting through the dancefloor to the entrance, Rumald tried to spot Belle through the crowd. He waited inside the doorway, hoping he might catch a glimpse of her, but gave up to follow Jefferson after he saw Jefferson giving him a questioning look. The further they got away from the hall, the more Rumald felt regret for leaving without saying anything to Belle. And as they passed by the queue, which had grown since Rumald had gotten into hall, Rumald wished he had stayed in the hall.

Entering the bar, Jefferson motioned to the first free table and sat down, telling Rumald. “I’ve been thinking of expanding the business.”

“In what way?” Rumald questioned, sitting down into a chair, his back to the entrance.

“Grace has gained her own clientele, working with me since her mum died.” Jefferson told him, shifting on his chair to face Rumald more. “My shop isn’t big enough for the two of us anymore.”

Rumald lulled his head to the side in thought, asking Jefferson. “What’s your proposal?”

A grin swept across Jefferson’s face as he edged forward on his seat, inclining himself towards Rumald. “I want to open a shop here in Boston.” Jefferson sat back, holding his hands up to indicate around them. “There’s a big ballroom scene here, makes sense to move it here.”

“Why not New York?” Rumald interjected, his eyes half closed in thought.

“Well… That would be out of my budget.” Jefferson said to him.

Rumald ran his fingers down the front of his tie, saying to Jefferson. “If I’m a part of this, then budget isn’t going to be an issue.” Sitting forward, resting his forearms on the table, Rumald went on to say. “Your dresses don’t just appeal to just ballroom dancers. There would be plenty of women, who would buy them for events or just to add them to their collection.”

“You think, we could?” Jefferson questioned.

“Get the right location, advertise it in a certain way… I don’t see why not.” Rumald lifted his drink to his lips and drank from it, when he had finished talking.

A pair of lips pressed themselves onto Rumald’s cheek, startling him. He jolted away from them, holding his drink in his mouth, as he came to face with her sickly smile. Her hands were on his shoulders, balancing herself as Cora bent over to come down to his height. Swallowing the whiskey in his mouth, Rumald slowly placed his glass down onto the table, scowling at Cora. She leaned her weight off of him, standing up straight, leaving her hands on his back, while she turned her head to look at Jefferson.

“What’s this I hear?” Cora removed one of her hands from Rumald to prop onto her hip. “Expanding the shop?”

“Talking about it.” Jefferson sat back into his chair.

“Rumald.” Cora sung his name, sliding her hand down his back from his shoulder, causing an uncomfortable shiver to run up Rumald’s back. “What a pleasure, it was to see you dancing earlier. Though, I hope you’re not too disappointed with the result. Seeing as you never got third place with me.” She told him, waltzing around the back of Jefferson’s chair to take a seat at the table, putting herself opposite Rumald.

Rumald eyed her across the table. “The only disappointment I have, dearie, is seeing you.”

“Don’t be like that, dear.” She crooned at him.

“I’m not your ‘dear’.” He informed her.

Cora smiled her beaming, wicked smile at him, saying. “Oh, you’ll always have a special place in my heard, Rumald.”

“How nice for you.” Rumald commented sarcastically.

“Maybe… I should…” Jefferson grabbed his bottle of beer from the table, pushing himself up and out of his chair.

Rumald copied Jefferson, downing his glass of whiskey to leave his glass on the table, and said. “Yes, I better get back too.”

By the time, he had stood up from his chair, Cora was in front of him, hooking her finger into his waistcoat. “If you’d been dancing with me, we would’ve easily won the Waltz.”

Rumald grabbed her hand and unhooked her claw from his waistcoat, as he said. “I’m wasn’t here to win.”

The corners of Cora’s lips curled, telling him. “Course, you were. That’s all we ever cared about.”

“Not anymore.” He said strongly, throwing away her hand.

“Rumald,” Cora titled her head to the side, regarding him. “Don’t tell me, you’ve gotten soft with old age.”

He laughed at her. “Oh no, dearie.” Rumald edged by her, leaning in to say. “There’s more to my life now than winning. It’s something, you’ll never understand.”

Cora was gawking at him, as he strolled away from her and grabbed Jefferson, guiding him away from Cora with an arm around Jefferson’s back, telling him. “Get the figures and plans together, and bring them over Wednesday.”

“I can do that.” Jefferson smiled wildly at Rumald. “I appreciate this, Rumald.”

“Don’t worry about it.” Rumald smiled, removing his arm from around Jefferson.

Jefferson twisted himself to look back. “That was unexpected.”

Rumald mumbled. “Just a bit.”

Walking with Jefferson, through the lobby to the corridor leading to the hall, Rumald did not give Cora a backwards glance, leaving her stood in the bar. Satisfied with himself, he held his head up high, knowing she would be watching him walk away. He had always thought seeing her again would break him. Rip open old wounds. However, as he had stood in front of her, Rumald had felt nothing but pity for her. Cora had spent, so many years, chasing the glory of being number one, she had negated the one person, correction, the two people who should have mattered most. Regina and Zelena should have had a mother, who cared about them. Not a mother always pushing for her next win or hunting for her next husband. She had always been occupied with climbing the social ladder, while dancing in the limelight. Rumald smiled, relieved he had learnt his lesson before he had lost his son for good.

They arrived back at the entrance of the hall to find the queue was gone. They had turned down the main lights, making the coloured lights flashing over the dancing crowd prominent. The music seemed louder than before. Rumald could hardly hear the chatter over the music. Rumald drifted his gaze, over the faces dancing on the dancefloor, traipsing after Jefferson through the crowd. They were midway through the crowd, when Rumald stopped, spotting Belle dancing.

The song changed, whilst Rumald stalked his prey, slipping by the other dancers, advancing on Belle from behind her. He was standing inches from her, travelled his gaze down her body, appreciating the natural curves of her. As he was bringing his gaze back up her body, Belle spun round and smiled when she saw him. She carried on dancing, rocking her hips to the beat in front of him. Regarding his new view of her, he ran his eyes down her body, loitering his eyes on her hips, wanting her to see him studying her body.

Belle danced closer to him, forcing him to raise his gaze to meet her own, as she asked him. “Are you going to dance with me?”

“Is that what you’re doing?” He teased.

“There’s nothing wrong with the way I dance.” Playfully, she slapped her hand against his chest as she defended herself.

“I’ll be the judge of that, Miss French.” Rumald told her, a sultry look on his face, offering his hand to her.

She smiled at him, biting her lower lip, as she gave him her hand. As soon as her fingers were within his grasp, Rumald yanked her towards him, trapping her inside of his embrace, craning his neck to see her face. Belle giggled wrapping her arms around his neck, matching the sway of his hips as they danced together. Their bodies were pressed against one another. Her fingers combed through his hair at the back of his neck, sending a delightful tingle, down his spine from her delicate touch. Turning his face into her hair, Rumald closed his eyes, savouring his moment with her.

“How’s my dancing now?” Belle queried, her lips whispered close to his ear, tantalising him with the thought of her lips on his skin.

Rumald glided one of his hands down her back, daring to go lower and cup her backside whilst they danced, testing to see if she would stop him. Breathing heatedly into the side of her head, he grinned as he moved with her. Belle’s fingernails dragged across the back of his head, searing him with pain and delight. Her touch evoked a low groan out of him and down her ear.

Angling his lips to her ear, Rumald whispered to her. “It could be better.”

“Really, dearie?” She exclaimed to him, yanking her face back to look into his eyes, a smile on her lips.

“It needs some work.” He told her, returning her smile with a grin.

Turning inside of his hold, Belle pushed herself back into his chest, throwing her left arm up and around the back of his neck, draping herself against his body. Rumald took a deep unsteady breath, clamping his hands down onto the sides of Belle’s hips, while she rocked her backside into his groin. It took Rumald a moment to gain control over himself, helpless under her minstrels. Mimicking the movements of her hips, Rumald eased his hold on her hips and titled his head down over her shoulder, burying his nose into the side of her neck. With the sway of her hips and the smell of her, Rumald was in heaven.

“How about now?” Belle asked, twisting her head to him.

“Getting better.” Rumald slid his hand up her body and across her stomach, drawing her tight to his body.

He felt her lips form into smile against his cheek. Lifting up his head, Rumald ducked his face into the side of face and kissed her cheek. Belle leant into his kiss and turned her face more in his favour, meeting his gaze, bringing their faces very close together. They slowed their dancing, coming to a standstill together, their focus on each other. Rumald studied her face, recognising the want in her eyes, while he brought his hand up to stroke his thumb over her cheek. Her face crept closer to him, while her eyes darted between his eyes and his lips. Their lips met softly, timidly meeting in a moderate kiss.

Unexpectedly, Belle jerked her lips away from him and held her hand over her mouth. Her eyes were wide with panic as she unwrapped his arm from around her waist, turning to face whilst she took a step away. Rumald narrowed his eyes at her, seeking answers to his unsaid questions, extending his hand out to reach for her.

“I’m sorry.” She told him, moving another step away from him.

Rumald took a step to counter hers, keeping a small distance between them, as he uttered her name. “Belle.”

Her head shook from side to side at him, apologising again. “I’m so sorry.”

“Belle, it’s okay.” He told her, taking a larger step to her, delicately touching her arm.

Profusely shaking her head, Belle shamefully casted her gaze down at the floor, her hand pressed over her mouth. Rumald stooped as best as he could, trying to catch her eye, while laying his other hand onto her arm, grounding her to the spot in front of him.

He gave her a reassuring smile, craning his back to put himself in her gaze, as he reinforced his previous comment. “I promise, it’s alright, Belle.”

“It’s not.” She stood up, her voice muffled behind her hand as she spoke.

Gently rubbing his hands up and down her arms, Rumald tried to soothe her. “Belle, believe me, it’s not an issue.” He paused to find the right words and said to her. “It was a ‘heat of the moment’ thing.”

Belle lowered her hand down from her mouth, her voice was barely a whisper as she said to him. “No, it wasn’t.”

“Belle, I…” Rumald raised his hands to touch her face, to tell her it was not a ‘heat of the moment’, that he had wanted to kiss her since he met her, but she was gone.

Knocking his hands away from her, she shoved her way through the crowd, going to the table, where he had sat earlier with Regina and Jefferson. Rumald followed as best as he could, fighting through the people Belle had already upset. She snatched her clutch purse from the table and darted away. Everyone at the table raised their gazes to her, following her, while Rumald struggled to catch her. By the time, Rumald had gotten to the entrance of the hall, Belle was long gone.


	30. Chapter 30

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Rumald goes in search of Belle and the morning after.

Stood outside the hotel, his fingers wiped over his lips, while his other hand was propped on his hip, holding back his suit jacket, while Rumald tried to guess where she had gone. They had searched through the hotel, had checked the suite, had combed through the restaurants and bars of the hotel, and had rummaged through the dancers in the hall, in case Belle had gone back. None of them – Regina, Neal, Jefferson – could find her anywhere. With the hour getting late, the others had gone back to the party, enjoying what was left of their evening, while anxiously Rumald carried on the search for Belle on his own.

He shrugged his shoulders and began to wander from the entrance of the hotel, heading to the old dock moorings by the hotel. Even at the late hour and a chilly evening, there were people walking the docks, residents of the boats and the yachts. Rumald eyed each face as he passed them, hoping one of them was Belle. Sighing heavily, he shoved his hands into his pants pockets, while he ambled along the red bricked path, heading further away from the lights of the hotel to the darkness of the docks. His gaze drifted down to his feet, his guilt weighed severely down on his shoulders.

Rumald glanced up, when he heard voices approaching him, only to see a young couple coming towards him. Glimpsing away, until they had gone by him, he looked out over the large yachts, berthed at the jetty beside the dock. Whilst he gazed at the expensive yachts, a small smile turned up the corners of his lips, recalling Belle’s reaction to seeing the yachts the day before. Objects had lost their fascination for Rumald. Years of dealing had ruined his ability to find wonder in things, only seeing their worth. Although, her reaction had amused Rumald, he had also found it alluring. Whether it was Belle’s age or her innocence, her outlook on the world captivated him.

Briefly closing his eyes, Rumald veered his gaze away from the yachts and opened his eyes onto the bricked path in front of him, concentrating his thoughts on finding Belle. Beginning to walk alongside some brick buildings on the dock, his gaze drifted over the buildings, noting they must have been the dock master’s buildings. Soon, Rumald had reached the end of the buildings and slowed his step to a halt, finding nothing at the end of the dock. He peered through the darkness, slowly pivoting himself to head back up the dock. His gaze stopped, noting there were hand rails lining the edge of the dock, on the other side of the building. Ambling across the dock to the other side, he found there was a walkway and followed it back to the hotel.

His head hung low, while in his mind, he pictured Belle fleeting away from him and from the hall. There kiss had hardly been anything. The previous kiss she had given him, after getting through to the next round, had been more of a kiss than the one, they had shared at the party. Rumald pulled a hand out of his pocket and scratched the back of his head, mulling over her reaction. The kiss she had given him at the competition, Rumald knew that kiss had been a ‘heat of the moment’ kiss. Belle probably, had not even realised, she had done it. However, their last kiss, accompanied with the way they had been dancing, there had been more behind it. It was a simple kiss. Their lips had barely met. But whatever had crossed her mind, had scared her enough into running away from him.

The walkway grew into larger path, leading up to the hotel and the waterfront park, located next to the hotel. This side of the dock was busier than the other side. Up ahead, were people sat at tables and chairs beside a small concession stand, talking while they ate and drank. He ambled by the people, happily chatting, heading to the other entrance of the hotel. Boston was too big and finding her after so much time had passed, would have been a miracle. Retreating back to the warmth of the hotel, Rumald decided to head back to their suite and wait for her there.

Rumald exited the elevator, traipsing down the corridor to their suite, retrieving his key card from his pocket. The door beeped and flashed green, and allowed him to enter the room. As he entered, he pocketed his key card and let the door swish shut behind him, while he turned the corner to open the mini bar, pouring himself a glass of whiskey. Rumald took a greedy sip from it, while he pulled at his tie to remove it, discarding it to the armchair as he headed to the glass door leading to the balcony.

Stepping out, closing the door behind him, Rumald undid the button of his collar, while a gush of cold wind blew through his short hair, ruffling the short tuffs back and forth. He rested his forearms onto the metal rail, gazing at the stairs above him. While he was raising his glass to his lips, Rumald heard a distant clunk and twisted his body to investigate. Not seeing anything that caused him alarm, he gradually turned back and braced his forearms on the metal handrail.

He closed his eyes, hating how he felt powerless. Belle had gone and he had no clue, where she had gone. It had been a long time since he had powerless. He had not felt like this, when Milah and Cora had left him, only regret and anger. Being abandoned by his father, left at his aunts, Rumald had felt powerless watching his father’s car drive away, stood on the front step of their house. It was probably because of that moment, why Rumald strived so hard for power. Building himself an empire, that he kidded himself was for Neal’s benefit, growing a wealth for his son. But, it was a lie and what good was any of it? He had still lost Belle…

Knocking back the rest of his glass, Rumald glanced at his watch to see it was close to eleven and went back inside. With his hand posed on the handle for the door, he stood still after he had shut the door, hearing a quiet snore. Frowning, Rumald slowly moseyed into the sitting area, finding Belle laid on the couch with his overcoat draped over her. Quickly making his way to her, Rumald angled his head to try and see her face, but could not see her face until he was stood over her. She was still, her face tucked into the collar of his overcoat. Gently touching the collar of his overcoat, pressing it down out of her face, he saw her mascara had run with the tears she had cried, making her eyes look like panda eyes. He stroked the edge of his thumb over the side of her face, only seeing his beautiful Belle underneath the smeared makeup.

Rumald put his glass on the coffee table before he scooped Belle into his arms. Carefully negotiating the sitting area, he carried her through into the bedroom, gazing down at her as she snuggled her face into his shoulder. He laid her onto the bed, gently placing her head on a pillow, leaving her with his overcoat over her. Whilst he was leaving the room, Rumald could not take his eyes off of her and hung by the opening to the small corridor. He knew, if he did not leave the bedroom soon, he would have joined her, lying down beside on the bed. But… Rumald could not stop himself.

“Go to bed, Rumald.” He whispered to himself, urging himself to leave.

He squeezed his eyes closed, praying for the will to leave her and go to sleep. Turning away without opening his eyes, Rumald felt for the wall and traced his way along the wall until he was sure, she was out of his sight, and opened his eyes. Stood with his hand on the wall, he breathed in deeply and pushed himself on into the sitting area. He stripped and changed for bed, and forewent folding out the bed and slept on the couch.

What started to stir him, from his sleep, was the sound of the bathroom door closing. Rumald cracked an eye open and saw the bathroom door was shut, and heard the shower turn on. Closing his eyes, he turned over and went back to sleep, pulling the covers tighter under his chin. The next thing that disturbed him, was a loud bang and the muffled curses of someone hurting themselves. Rumald pulled the covers over his head and snuggled his face further into his pillow, willing himself to go back to sleep. He was drifting back off to sleep, picturing Belle and him at his cabin, enjoying an evening in front of the fire, sharing a pecan pie between them with a hot cup of coffee.

“Rumald…” A hand touched his back and gently rocked him.

Ignoring her call, Rumald fed a fork of pecan pie into Belle’s mouth. Her eyes widened, at taking the large piece into her mouth, and giggled with her hand over mouth. He melted as he looked at her and heard her laugh.

“Rumald…” Came another call, another gentle rock.

Sleepily, Rumald responded to her call. “Belle…”

“Come on.” She told him, peeling the cover back from over his head to see his face. “Breakfast.”

“What…?” He half rolled onto his back, putting all of his weight on his shoulder, peering over the cover to see her and food on the coffee table.

“I’ve got you breakfast.” Belle informed him, waving her hand leisurely at the food on the coffee table.

Rumald rapidly blinked his eyes and held them wide, forcing himself to wake up, and look up at Belle above him, asking. “Breakfast?”

Belle chuckled at him. “It’s half ten.”

“It is…?” Rumald sat up at hearing the time, searching for anything to validate the time.

“Here.” She sat down on the couch, where Rumald had been lying, and retrieved his coffee from the table, offering it to him.

He eyed the coffee over his shoulder, throwing his legs out from under the covers and pushed them away, taking the coffee from her, as he said. “How long have you been up?”

Belle watched him drink his coffee, telling him. “Since about seven.”

“Should have woken me up.” Rumald said and drank some more of his coffee.

She lightly shook her head, leaning forward to bring the plate of food closer to him on the table, saying. “You looked so peaceful. I didn’t want to disturb you.”

“It’s unusual for me to sleep so late.” He shared with her, scooting forward on the couch to sit on the edge, taking a piece of bacon from the plate. “I normally get up at seven.”

As he bit into the piece of bacon, Rumald could see a look of uneasiness on her face, out of the corner of his eye. Feeding the rest of the bacon into his mouth, he waited for her to say something, to bring up whatever was on her mind, hoping she wanted to talk about last night. Lines appeared across her forehead, while she deliberated with herself, her gaze down on her shoes. Rumald collected the fork from the table and dug into his breakfast, patiently waiting for whatever she wanted to say to him. He did not have to wait long, though.

Belle shifted on the couch, turning herself to face him, as she said. “About last night…” Lowering his fork of food, he twisted himself to look at her more easily. “I want to apologise for what I did and for running off.”

“It really doesn’t matter, as long as you’re alright.” He said to her.

“I don’t want to go into it.” Belle declared him and said. “I’d rather just put it behind us. I’m getting married and I don’t want to ruin our friendship.”

“Friendship?” Rumald raised an eyebrow at her.

She was slightly taken aback, by him questioning ‘friendship’, and said. “Are we not friends?”

“Course, we are.” He dropped his fork onto his plate and waved his airily hand. “It’s just… I know from experience, it’s not always best to forget things and leave things unsaid. My marriage probably would’ve lasted a little longer, if we had talked.”

“It was just a heat of the moment thing. Just like you said.” Belle repeated his words from last night.

“Belle, I was…” Rumald was going to tell her that he was wrong, however she cut him off, holding her hand up to him. “I’m getting married on Sunday.”

“Yes, but…” He tried again and was cut off by her hand covering his mouth.

She briefly closed her eyes and opened them to say. “I’ve already thought this through. Please, don’t make this any harder than it already is.” Belle took her hand away from his mouth and said. “Let’s just forget about it. Pretend it never happen.” She smiled at him, as though it would help to convince Rumald to do as she had asked. “Nothing has changed.”

“Nothing?” He was at a loss for words.

“It’s not the first time, I’ve kissed you.” Belle commented to him.

Rumald put his coffee cup onto the table, losing all interest in his coffee and food, and stood up, throwing a flippant comment at her. “No, but it’s definitely the first time, you’ve run away from me.”

“Rumald, it wasn’t anything to do with you.” She explained, remaining sat on the couch, as Rumald walked by the coffee table, adjusting the waistband of his pyjama bottoms.

He scoffed at her, spinning round to face her on the other side of the coffee table. “Really, dearie?”

Belle pushed herself up from the couch, telling him. “I don’t want to fight about this. We don’t have to fight about this.” She carelessly gestured with her hands, as she spoke. “Like I said, we’ll just pretend it never happened.”

“Whatever you want.” He reluctantly agreed, waving a dismissive hand at her, while he left her to go into the bathroom, closing and locking the door behind him.

Grabbing at his hair with both of his hands, Rumald stared at his reflection in the mirror, unable to comprehend the madness coming out of Belle’s mouth. Whatever she had told herself, convincing herself, it could be just like it was, was foolhardiness. Especially, as Rumald had no intention of ever being her friend. He could never be happy with being second place to Gaston. Rumald had come too far now, to let a small hiccup, derail what he had managed to accomplish.

Letting go of his hair and putting his hands on the counter by the sink, Rumald eyed himself into the mirror, mentally telling himself, he could do this. He had six days until she would be married. If God could create the world in six days, Rumald could sure as hell, ruin an engagement in that time. Gradually, he grinned at his reflection, already dreaming up his scheme.


	31. Chapter 31

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Belle tires of Rumald's cold shoulder.

Rumald drew his razor down the side of his face, removing a strip of shaving cream from his face, and forcefully swished the head of his razor in the hot water in the sink. Lining his razor to overlap his previous shave, he caught his own eye in the mirror, seeing the disgust he harboured for himself in his eyes. He pushed on, ignoring what he saw, and trailed his razor down his face, cleanly shaving away the day old stubble. Swishing his razor again, Rumald looked at his reflection in the mirror with hooded eyes, ashamed to meet the gaze of his reflection. Letting out a noisy breath through his nose, Rumald titled his head as he lined his razor to remove another strip of shaving cream.

Guilt was why he loathed himself that morning. Rumald had not exactly been horrid to Belle, but it had taken all of his willpower to give her the cold-shoulder. She had not noticed his change after coming out of the bathroom. Belle had carried on as normal, kindly offering to help him pack, collecting his things from the bathroom, touching his arm, his shoulder, his back – just like nothing had happened. It had surprised him, she had not questioned why he had been so quiet, only grunting his response to her or giving her one word answers. Not one sweetheart left his lips.

For Belle, realisation had dawned, when they had been leaving their room and Rumald had shunned away from her linking arms with him. She had worn a confused look on her face, while they had walked from their suite to the elevators. Rumald had been a couple of paces in front of her, putting space between them. Stood in front of the elevators, Belle had studied his face, her head titled to the side, examining him for the answers to her unsaid questions. When they had ridden down in the elevator, she had tried to sneak her hand around his arm and Rumald had covertly avoided her, raising his arm to scratch at the back of his neck. The lines on her forehead had deepened, while she had been taken aback by his obvious avoidance. Her lips had formed into a straight line, resisting the urge to ask her questions, and had followed him out of the elevator, staying close to him while he checked them out of the hotel and claimed his car from the valet.

He dragged his razor down his face, carefully watching the path of his razor, and dove his razor straight into the hot water, cleaning the head of his razor, while he observed his reflection in the mirror. There had been many times in Rumald’s lifetime, he had done things and had acted a certain way to persuade someone to do something for him. This was like any other time he had done it. Except, this time, he was doing it to someone, he genuinely cared about. As long as Rumald could stay to true to his plan, not allowing his feelings to get in the way, like they had when he had dropped her off, Rumald could do this.

Swallowing, Rumald lifted his chin to the mirror and shaved down from his bottom lip, performing several swipes of his chin before he cleaned off his razor. ‘ _It’ll be worth it.’_ , he told himself, swishing his razor in the hot water. His eyes closed, haunted by Belle’s face, the confusion and sadness that had been in her eyes, when he had left her. He had taken her bags up to the house, but he had ignored her offer of a drink and had left her house, closing the door behind him. It had not been long, until Belle had opened the front door and had called out his name. On the third call of his name, he had heard the pleading in her tone, desperate for him to glance back at her, which he did once he had gotten to his car and was opening his car door. She had stood on her front doorstep, hugging her arms around herself, pouting her lips, bothered by his coldness.

Shaving a slice of shaving cream from his left cheek, he had no idea, how he had stopped himself, from running up her drive and embracing her. Belle had broken his resolve, yanking hard on his heart strings to bring him back to her. Thankfully, being so stubborn, had gone in Rumald’s favour. Projecting an air of indifference to her, Rumald had swept the flap of his overcoat around himself before stepping into his car. She had remained on her doorstep, watching him reverse out of her driveway and drive away, never making eye contact with Rumald again.

He reached for the hand towel, hanging by the side of his sink, and patted his chin, neck and cheeks dry, checking himself in the mirror. Normally, he would have been smug with himself, pleased he had not missed any stubble, but not today. Not with his guilt sat heavily on his shoulders. Pursing his lips, Rumald folded the hand towel and returned it to the rail, and opened the cabinet behind the mirror to retrieve his aftershave. He shook some out into the palm of his hand before he rubbed the aftershave between his hands, and applied it to his neck and face.

Thinking of Belle as he did this, Rumald was finding it hard to control his emotions as he tidied up the sink and put his things away. As he was placing the aftershave back into the cabinet, he had been tempted to throw it through the bathroom window. Bracing his hands, on the edge of the sink, gazing at the window in question, Rumald took long, deep breaths to subdue his emotions. Though, it would not have been the first time he had done it. Quite a few bottles, had been thrown through the bathroom window, when Rumald had been married to Milah, driven over the edge, several times, by her relentless fault-finding. Instead, this time, it would not have been because he was angry with her, but because he was angry with himself. Angry, he was such a coward. Still.

Rumald came out of his bathroom and went to his wardrobe, opening the door to look over his suits and shirts, while he said to himself. “Should’ve just told her.”

Old habits were hard to break, it seemed. Relying on his wit, his power and wealth to get him what he wanted. Though, Belle could probably appreciate his wit, she appeared to have no interest in his power or wealth. While he contemplated her, he dressed in his usual black three-piece suits, a dark blue shirt and maroon tie. To Rumald, it was very strange, but a welcome change, that she was not interested in his power or wealth. Most of the women he had dated, had always been inclined to his power or his wealth, or both. She… Belle was so different from them, not his usual type, that his normal methods of wooing a woman were ineffective with her. Sure, he could shower her with gifts, what woman would not appreciate that? However, Rumald knew it would not win her heart. Flaunting his power over the town would not amuse her. If anything, she would have found it repulsive.

This was where the problem lay. The only thing left was to give himself to her, cut out his own heart and give it to her. Rumald knew this was his downfall, as he tucked his tie inside of his waistcoat and centred the knot of his tie. He dropped his hands from his tie to his sides, staring at the coward in the mirror. No matter how many times he had said it, had promised himself it would be different, had tried to change for her - His coward had won every battle and was still winning, which was the main reason he detested himself.

Crossing his bedroom to the dresser draws, Rumald partly pulled out the top draw and picked out the corresponding handkerchief to match his tie, and folded it to tuck into the breast pocket of his suit jacket. He adjusted his handkerchiefs position as he pushed the draw shut and walked out of his bedroom to go downstairs. Not feeling like breakfast, Rumald briefly went into the kitchen to collect his phone from its charger, his keys, and his money clip and wallet. While he put his keys, money clip and wallet into their corresponding pockets, Rumald checked his phone. Some emails, a few messages and missed calls from his tenants, but it was the message with the correspondent tagged as ‘Belle’ that got his attention. Swiping his thumb across the screen, he chose to view the message, while strolled from his kitchen to the foyer to grab his overcoat.

‘ _I only asked that we pretend, I never kissed you. I’m sorry that I’m marrying Gaston, but I gave him my word. I do value our friendship and I hope we can get passed this.’_

Rumald squinted his gaze at her message and re-read her message. Belle had sent him the message close to midnight. Did he dare to think that thoughts of him were keeping her awake? Half a smile, pulled back, one side of his face. He had not forgotten his guilt over yesterday, but after reading her message, Rumald felt very smug as he lifted the flap of his suit jacket to put his phone into the inside pocket of his jacket. Unlocking the front door, grabbing his overcoat at the same time, he left his house, broadly smiling at the day as he stepped out onto his porch.

Pulling up to the side of his shop, he was still smiling as he got out of his car and walked round the front of his car, going to the front door of his shop. Vaguely, Rumald remembered, she briefly told him what she would be doing today. He looked over to the library, wondering if she was going straight to the school or coming to the library first, while Rumald found the key for his shop on his keychain. Unlocking the door, he entered his shop, keeping his gaze on the library until he closed the door. The blind was soon retracted from window of the door, returning the library to his field of vision, watching out for Belle as he stood by the front door, putting his keys in his pocket.

After a few minutes, Dove arrived at the shop, wearing a puzzled look on his face at finding Rumald at the front door. “Mr Gold?”

“Dove,” Rumald motioned for Dove to follow him deeper into the shop. “I’ve got a little job for you.”

“Yes, sir.” Dove closed the door, jingling the bell above the door, and followed Rumald to the main counter.

“I need you to follow Mr Phipps. Take some pictures of him with his lady friend or friends.” Rumald was stood behind the counter and ducked down to grab a camera from the display, handing it to Dove when he stood up.

Dove took the camera from Rumald. “Together or in the act?”

“Whatever you can get.” Rumald told him, placing his hands onto the glass counter.

Gesturing with the camera to the back of the shop, Dove said to Rumald. “I’ll sort out the packages being sent out and get right onto it, sir.”

“Good.” Rumald slid his hand inside of his suit jacket and got his phone out. “I’ve got some calls to make.”

While Rumald had made his phone calls, had organised packages to be collected and had returned the missed calls he had received the night before, Rumald had kept a watchful eye on the library. Belle had arrived at the library about ten o’clock, causing his heart to ache, not knowing whether to flutter with joy or break under the strain of Rumald’s guilt.

Around eleven, Belle locked up the library and crossed the intersection, heading to Grannies, to inspect the selection of cakes Grannie had made for her. He smiled, observing her through the front display window, quickening her step with a little skip, when she was midway across the intersection. Disappearing into the back room, Rumald collected his overcoat and locked the rear door, and came out of the front of his shop, putting on his overcoat, closing the front door to lock it. He pocketed his keys and set off to Grannies, taking his time, keeping his stride short, so he did not enter Grannies too soon after her.

Rumald climbed the few steps to the front porch of Grannies, spying through the blinds he could see Belle, sat at the counter talking to Ruby and Grannie with a selection of cakes on the counter. Yanking open the door, the bell rung above the door and the blind on the back of the door clattered as he entered. Rumald met their gazes, a sly smile on his lips, when they turned their attention to him.

Granny gave him one of her stern looks, her hands on her hips, eyeing him over the top of her glasses sat on the bridge of her nose. “What do you want?”

“That’s no way to greet a potential customer.” Rumald remarked, flicking back his overcoat to reach into his pants pocket as he strolled up to the counter.

“What would you like, Mr Gold?” Ruby asked him sweetly.

Pulling his money clip out of his pocket, Rumald gave Ruby his order. “BLT to go, please.”

Ruby wandered off to deliver his order to the kitchen, scribbling his order on her notepad in her hand, while Granny said to Belle, holding her hand out to one of the cakes. “This is a traditional fruit cake.

Rumald selected a ten-dollar bill from his money clip, inspecting the cake Granny was showing to Belle. Belle’s head twisted slightly, eyeing him from the corner of her eye, before she moved her gaze to the cake in question. It was not a full size cake. Granny must have made taster cakes for Belle.

“And this one?” Belle pointed to the next cake in the line-up.

“This is chocolate, salted caramel and raspberry cream.” Granny grinned at Belle.

Rumald raised an eyebrow at the flavours in the cake, as Belle said to Granny. “Sounds delicious. Can I try a piece of that one?”

“Course, you can.” Granny smiled at Belle, grabbing the idle knife from the counter, and cut a thin slice from the small cake.

“Here you go, Mr Gold.” Ruby announced, coming from the kitchen, holding up his wrapped up BLT in her hand.

Stepping forward, Rumald placed his hand on Belle’s shoulder, brushing himself against her, whilst he offered his money to Ruby. Belle tensed under his touch. Rumald and Ruby exchanged, and Rumald recoiled himself back, lingering by Belle’s side as he looked over the cakes. Granny had out done herself. They all looked delicious and the aroma from the cake, Granny had delicately taken a slice from, smelt like heaven. His mouth watered, while Granny put the taster slice in front of Belle on the counter.

“I best leave you, lovely ladies, to your cakes.” Rumald said to them, shuffling back from the counter.

He kept his hand as long as he could on her shoulder, smiling kindly at Ruby and Granny, prolonging his stay. Ruby returned his smile, though she received a glare and an elbow from Granny for her trouble. Turning away, Rumald let his hand slip from Belle’s shoulder and sauntered to the door, glancing back to see Belle was watching him, while Granny and Ruby quietly bickered with one another. Rumald grabbed the handle of the door, pausing to smile warmly at Belle. She looked confused by his change in demeanour. It was a welcomed sight, compared to the hurt and sadness he had seen on face yesterday.

His heart cried out to her, but Rumald refused to listen to it, and opened the door to Grannies, walking through the open doorway without looking back. He pulled the door close and descended the steps of the porch, fighting the urge to spy on her through the blinds. Though he hated his plan, Rumald could not bring himself to look weak in front of her, apologising for his pig-headedness. ‘ _Why couldn’t I just tell her!’_ , he fumed at himself, turning onto the sidewalk from Grannies, walking back to his shop.

Hearing the door to Grannies open and quickly shut, Rumald glanced back without thinking, startled to see Belle racing down the steps of the porch. Belle chasing after him out of Grannies, had not been part of his plan. Neither was the look of anger on her face as she stalked after him, scowling at him. She pointed her finger at him, faulting him before she had said anything to him. Seeing her intent in her eyes, Rumald carried on along the sidewalk and returned his gaze in front of him, avoiding the confrontation with her.

“Rumald.” Belle called to him, beckoning him to stop.

He continued to walk the sidewalk to the intersection, his attention was focus in front of him, while he ignored her call. By the tone of her voice, Rumald could hear she was not distressed enough yet. It was not fair of him to toy with her emotions, but his plan called for it. He needed her to be bursting for his attention. Driven mad, by the way he treated her and would not talk to her. Though, with her now following him, calling his name, he had not expected her to be this point so quickly.

“Rumald!” She shouted his name at him.

Startled by the volume of her voice, Rumald halted mid step and swung himself round to face her. “You yelled?”

“What’s wrong with you!” Belle bellowed at him, swiftly advancing towards him.

“Nothing, as far as I’m aware.” He pursed his lips in thought as he answered her.

Standing in front of him, she wagged her finger at him, telling him. “You know, exactly, what I’m talking about!”

“Do I?” Rumald raised a questioning eyebrow at her.

Belle became very animated with her hands, waving them through the air, as she spoke to him. “This is because of what I said yesterday morning, isn’t it? When I told you, to forget me trying to kiss you? That’s why you were being so cold to me yesterday!”

While she had been shouting at him, in the middle of Main Street, during the day, voicing their business for everyone to hear, Rumald had become entranced by her beauty. He loved seeing the fire in her eyes, hearing the rage in her voice, as Belle released her wrath on him. He should not love it, but he did and wanted to see more of it. Wanted to take her through the full spectrum of her temper, bringing out her darkness. Rumald felt a smirk, begin to spread his lips, until he realised where his train of thought was going. He did not want that for her. She was too pure of heart. Tainting her with darkness, would ruin the brightness of her light and dull his attraction to her.

“You’re heartless!” She proclaimed at him and added less passionately. “You don’t care about anyone, but yourself.”

Her words stabbed him deep into his chest, severely wounding his heart. Rumald pressed his left hand over his heart, nursing the pain in his heart, while he openly stared at her. It was evident from the look on her face, the regret in her eyes, Belle could see her words had hit him hard. The harshness of her words were meant and with just cause. Rumald had treated her badly. There was no apology, which could ever make up for the hurt and sadness he had caused her.

“I didn’t want it to be like this. I wanted to be friends with you. But now…” Belle slowly shook her head at him. “I don’t know what I ever saw in you. I thought there was a good man, hidden behind that suit, but I guess I was wrong.”

“Belle…” He uttered her name, stumbling a step towards her.

“I don’t want to hear it.” She told him, turning her back to him to walk away.

Rumald dropped his hand from his chest, taking another step after her. “Belle, please.”

Belle walked away from him, hugging her arms around herself, fighting off the cold and comforting herself. He closed his eyes and bowed his head. ‘ _Coward.’_ , Rumald insulted himself. Opening his eyes, he caught sight of Belle glancing back at him, whilst she turned into Grannies and disappeared from his view.

His temper flared and he threw his long forgotten sandwich into the middle of the street. Rumald stomped off back to his shop, uncaring as he crossed the intersection and walked straight in front of a car, forcing them to brake hard and beep their horn at him. Enraged, he slammed his hands down onto the front of their car, repeatedly beating his fist into the bonnet, denting the thin metal. Rumald let go of his temper, punching with all of his might into the bonnet of the car.

“Hey!” Yelled the driver as they got out of their car.

Rumald straightened his overcoat, tugging at the lapels, and looked at the driver to see it was Doctor Hopper. “Bill me.”


	32. Chapter 32

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Rumald makes a decision and apologies to Belle.

Rumald stood in the middle of the back room, surveying the damaged items he had attacked the day before, hitting them with a cane from the front of the shop. A lot of the items were write-offs. Some of them looked like he could repair them, possibly sell them with a small loss to the value. Parting the flaps of his suit jacket, he placed his hands on his hips holding back his jacket, ashamed of the mess he had made of the back room and the impressive dent he had beaten into Doctor Hopper’s car. Sheriff Nolan had been by in the afternoon, for a ‘little chitchat’ about the incident and to voice Doctor Hopper’s concern - Rumald was having a psychotic break. He was grateful, the Doctor was not pressing charges, but he was not happy. He had to agree to attend a session with the Doctor. Anything was better, than to sit in a room with Doctor Hopper and talk about his feelings.

Grabbing the broom, from where it leant against a workbench, Rumald began sweeping the pieces of broken statues and vases, and bits of wood that had splintered off the furniture. His head hung low, thinking about his recent behaviour. In a matter of an hour, Rumald had destroyed weeks, or even months, worth of work. Within twenty-four hours, he had managed to drive Belle away with a stupid plan, concocted by the coward within him. There was not a word, which could describe, how Rumald felt about himself. Not hatred, or disappointment, or frustration – None of these came close.

‘ _It’s time for a change.’_ , Rumald told himself, sick of the way he felt about himself.

No more empty promises. No more saying one thing and doing another. No scheming in the shadows. This was his moment. Rumald, either did as he had been vowing to do, or he had to let Belle go. Rumald hated, the idea of having to give her up and watch her live her life with Gaston.

Rumald propped the broom against the wall and collected the dustpan and brush from the kitchen area, stooping to grab it from under the sink. As he stood up and traipsed across the room to the pile, he had created, Rumald decided, he was no better than Gaston. He lied to her, manipulated her, was dishonest about his intent. Realistically, if he was going to try and be the man… If he was going to be the man that she deserved, he should have told her about Gaston’s affair, as soon as he had found out. But, he had hidden behind some misguided bravado, wanting to take possession of her from Gaston, instead of earning her trust and love by being honest with her.

After emptying the contents of the dustpan into the trash, Rumald returned the dustpan and brush under the sink as the bell rung in the front of the shop. Rubbing the dust and dirt from his hands, he walked through into the front of the shop and was surprised to find Regina.

“What have you done?” Regina asked him, closing the door to his shop.

Rumald refrained from raising an eyebrow at her, while he moved behind his counter and said. “You need to be a bit more précised, dearie.”

“Belle, called the dance studio yesterday and cancelled her remaining lessons.” Regina informed him, approaching the other side of the counter. “And since I heard about you… beating Doctor Hopper’s car. I put two and two together.”

“No doubt, the talk of the town.” Rumald settled his hands onto the edge of the counter.

“Well, it’s certainly not every day, someone beats a car with their bare hands.” She stated to him, eyeing the red knuckles on his right hand.

Averting his gaze away from Regina, staring aimlessly down into the counter, he repeated her previous comment about Belle. “Cancelled her lessons.”

Regina leant onto the glass counter with her hands, angling herself to try and catch his eye, while she said. “What happened? I thought it was going well, between you both.”

“Old habits die hard.” He said raising his gaze to meet her eyes.

“I don’t understand, what that means, but I’m going with my first thought - You’ve done something stupid.” Regina told him, giving him a sympathetic smile.

“Me?” Rumald pointed a finger at himself. “Never.” And wafted his hand at her, dismissing her reasoning.

Shrugging her shoulders at him, Regina backed away from the counter, saying to him. “I just came to tell you that she’s cancelled her lesson. At least, you got your wish at the end of all this.” She held her hands up, adding. “You don’t have to teach anymore.”

Rumald smiled at her comment, but did not feel it. Hearing her say that, ‘you don’t have to teach’, saddened him. He had been enjoying himself, when he had been teaching and dancing with Belle. Though, he doubted he would ever have the same feeling, if he were to teach anyone else. She had awoken his love of dancing and he did not want to dance with anyone else, but her.

The ringing of the bell, above his shop door, brought him out of his thoughts. Regina gave him a little wave and exited his shop, closing the door behind her. Breathing in deeply, Rumald ambled out from the counter and went through into the back room. He started to sort through the shelves, full of damaged items, standing them up and organising their broken bits. It was not long until his thoughts were about Belle. He was sorry, he had driven her to cancel her remaining classes. Giving up something she enjoyed, because of him.

Suddenly, Rumald felt impelled to do something, to do anything, if it would start to make things right between himself and Belle. Grabbing his overcoat, he flicked the lock on the rear door of the shop and strolled through into the front of the shop, putting on his coat, and left his shop, locking the front door. He took a few steps in the direction of the library, but halted… What if, she threw him out? What if, she did not want to talk to him? What if, she told him, she never wanted to see him again? These questions caused Rumald to doubt himself and glance back to the safety of his shop.

Pulling himself together, Rumald decided he needed a peace offering to take with him and turned in the direction of Grannies. He quickened his pace to get there sooner and yanked open the door to Grannies, entering to find everyone’s gazes were on him. Going to the counter, Rumald smiled sweetly at Ruby, who gave him one of her sultry smiles.

“Piece of pecan pie and a cup of coffee to go, please, Ruby.” Rumald ordered in his nicest tone.

“Milk and sugar in the coffee?” She asked, turning her back to him, and poured some coffee into a takeaway cup.

Rumald pulled a few napkins from the dispenser on the counter, saying to Ruby. “One sugar, no milk.”

Ruby twisted to see him, putting the sugar in as he had requested. “Treating someone?”

“Something like that.” Rumald mumbled, tucking the napkins into his pocket.

She deposited the coffee in front of him and shuffled along the counter, grabbing a tray from under the counter, and selected a piece of pie to put into tray, asking him. “Would you like some cream with it?”

“No, thanks.” Was his response to her question, while he dug his money clip out of his pocket.

“She likes cream with it.” Ruby shared with him.

Rumald held his money clip in his hands and slowly looked up from his money to Ruby. “Does… She?”

“Always has a small squirt of cream on the side.” Ruby informed him, turning to the back counter.

He watched, while she opened the fridge under the counter and got the can of cream from inside it, squirting a small amount to sit beside the piece of pecan pie. Ruby returned the cream, knocking the door closed with her hip, and came back to him, closing the lid on the takeaway box. She put it down next to the cup of coffee, smiling at him.

Pulling a twenty from his money clip, he held the money out to Ruby, saying to her. “I’m surprised I’m not wearing that pie.”

“Why? Because she’s pissed at you?” Ruby plucked the money from his hand and entered his order into the register.

“Something like that.” He commented, sliding the takeaway box and cup closer to him on the counter.

The cash draw sprung out and Ruby deposited his money, and then withdrew his change, saying. “I don’t know, what going on between you.” She closed the money draw and held his change out to him. “All I know, is since she started her dance lessons, she’s been the happiest I’ve ever seen her.”

Rumald smirked at her admission, picking up his items from the counter. “Keep the change, Ruby.”

“Are you sure?” She looked shocked, gazing at the twelve dollars in her hand.

“I can change my mind…” He began to say, when Ruby quickly shook her head and pocketed the change, telling him. “No, no. Thank you, Mr Gold.”

Turning to leave, Rumald got to the door and balanced the coffee on top of the takeaway box, giving Ruby one last look before he opened the door and carefully went through the doorway. He took in a steadying breath, feeling nerves stir in the pit of his stomach as he walked down the steps of Grannies. Rumald frowned at the strange sensation. Walking from Grannies porch to the sidewalk, he could not remember the last time he had been nervous, especially when it came to women. Though, as Rumald had pondered quite a few times, Belle was not like the other women he had dated. The way he felt about her, was different to the way he had felt about Milah and Cora. She meant more to him than they ever had.

He stood outside of the library door, performing his balancing trick again, and opened the library door. The repulsive smell of old books and dust hit him as usual, but he gave it no thought, strolling behind the circulation desk and into her office. Rumald stopped – She was not there.

Guessing she was in the library somewhere, Rumald walked around her desk and plonked himself down into her chair, skimming his gaze over the items on her desk. There was a large notepad sat in the middle of her desk, with several notes written randomly over the pad. There was a poor attempt at doodling a dog in the top right corner of the pad, with a box drawn around it, the outside of the box decorated with flowers. A small smile pushed back his cheeks as he stroked his finger over her doodle.

His ears pricked hearing footsteps outside of her office. Quickly Rumald posed himself, propping his feet onto the desk, while he rested his elbows on the arms of her chair, bridging his hands in front of him by his fingertips. He waited, eyeing the door, as the footsteps grew louder. Catching sight of a bit of colour, Rumald redirected his gaze to look at a picture, hung on the wall above the filing cabinets, lining the right side of her office. The footsteps came into the office, Belle was flicking through a pile of cards in her hands, frowning at them as she mumbled under her breath. He moved his gaze from the picture to her, amazed she had not noticed him, while she came further into her office, walking around the side of her desk to her chair.

Belle abruptly looked up from her cards and dropped them, scattering them on the floor, while she screamed at him. “What the fuck!”

Rumald grinned up at her, laying his hands over his stomach, as he said. “Language, dearie.”

“What are you doing here?” She asked him, raising her voice at him. “How did you get in here?”

“Public library?” He suggested to her, amused by her reaction.

“Yes, I know that. I mean, I didn’t hear you come in to the library.” Belle explained, placing a hand on her forehead, gesturing with her other hand to the library.

He pushed himself up from her chair, telling her as he stood up. “Magic.”

“Magic.” Belle scoffed at him.

Playing with the silver band on his right ring finger, Rumald felt queasy with the butterflies, swarming around in his stomach. He took in a few breaths, trying to calm his nerves, while Belle propped her hands on her hips, looking down at the mess of her cards on the floor. Rumald followed her gaze to the floor and winched at the mess.

Beginning to stoop down, Rumald said to her. “Let me get your cards for you.”

Belle did not say anything to him, observing him while he was down on the floor, collecting the scattered cards from the floor. He used his hands to sweep the cards into a pile. Checking under the desk. he reached underneath it and collecting the ones trying to escape. A few were underneath the chair, a couple were to the right of Belle, while one of them was caught between Belle’s feet. He left this one for last, taking his time as he brushed the backs of his fingers over the top of her nylon clad foot. The friction against the small hairs on the back of his fingers tantalised him, sending a small shiver up his arm. Rumald took the card and stacked it on top of the pile, wanting caress his hand further up her leg.

Rumald put a hand on the table, aiding himself, and got up off the floor, holding the pile of cards out to Belle. “Here you go.”

“Thank you.” She took the cards from him and probed him with her question. “What are you doing here?”

As he answered her, Rumald noted, there was a flush travelling up from her neck to her cheeks. “I brought you a peace offering,” He waved his hand to indicate the coffee and the takeaway box. “And to… apologise.”

“Apologise? I thought, you said that was a sign of weakness?” Belle threw at him, putting her stack of cards down onto her desk.

“It is a sign of weakness.” He played nervously with the ring on his right ring finger. “But… I owe you an apology for my behaviour.” Rumald informed her, sheepishly avoiding her gaze.

When she did not say anything, Rumald chanced a glance at her, seeing she was looking at him, her arms crossed over her chest, as she waited for him to apologise. Swallowing nervously, he straightened his back, preparing himself to do something he rarely ever did. The last person, Rumald had apologised to, was Neal and that had been a drunken phone call, profusely begging for his son’s forgiveness. Rumald did not think, it would look very good, if he tried the same tactic with Belle.

Twisting his ring around his finger, Rumald began to apologise to her. “I can never really tell you, how sorry I am, for the way I treated you on Sunday.” He took a breath. “It was despicable of me and I’m ashamed for not being… brave enough to be truthful with you.” Squinting his eyes in thought, he recalled what she had said to him the day before. “You were right... I can be heartless and I don’t care about anyone, apart from my son and…” Rumald pointed his finger at her. “You.” Belle’s eyes widened at him, while he continued, gesturing to the takeaway box and coffee. “So… I brought you a coffee and a slice of pecan pie, hoping I could make a mends.”

Belle stood in front of him, her arms still crossed over her chest as she stared at him. Her eyes narrowed at him and her brow twitched as she drew her lips into a thin line. Rumald was not sure, if his apology had been good enough, while he waited patiently for her to respond to him.

She shifted her stance and unfolded her arms, dropping her hands down in front of her, and played with the hem of her cardigan. “I appreciate your apology,” She told him, holding his gaze. “And I’m sorry for what I said yesterday. It was uncalled for and I didn’t mean it. I was just angry with you.”

“I had it coming.” He gave her an excuse, aimlessly waving his hand.

Belle shook her head at him. “No, you didn’t. I had no right to say you’re heartless and you don’t care, when all you’ve ever been is kind to me.”

“And I brought you pie.” Rumald grinned, indicating the takeaway box on her desk with his hand.

She smiled broadly at him. “And you brought me pie.”

“Did I mention it was pecan pie?” He asked as he clasped his hands behind his back, slightly inclining his upper body towards her.

“Yes, you did.” Belle giggled at him as she moved closer to her desk and opened the takeaway box. “Cream?”

Rumald was tempted to lie to her, but instead, he was honest with her. “Ruby suggested it.”

Her gaze drifted up, from the pie to Rumald, as she said. “Did she now?”

“Do you not like it with cream?” His back stiffened, horrified Ruby had misled him.

Belle must have heard the fear in his voice and offered him reassurance, edging round the desk to touch his arm. “No, I do. I do.” She smiled. “I’m just surprised she did that, that’s all.”

“I didn’t tell her it was for you.” He shared with her, claiming her hand from his forearm with his right hand, stroking his thumb over the top of her knuckles. “She guessed.”

“She can be very intuitive at times.” Belle remarked, sounding distracted, her gaze on their hands.

Her skin was so soft under his rough fingertips. Clasping his left hand around her wrist, Rumald laid her hand in the palm of his right hand, studying the length of her fingers, seeing old blemishes and tiny scars on the back of her hand. Her nails were trimmed short, shinning in the dull light from the clear vanished she had painted on them. He clutched his thumb over her fingers and raised her hand to his lips, gently pressing a sweet kiss to her knuckles, eyeing her over the top of her hand.

Rumald heard her take a shuddering breath as he held her hand close to his mouth, reiterating his apology. “I’m so sorry, Belle. I’ve been such a fool.”

“This is all my fault.” She insisted, squeezing his hand. “My mother would be so ashamed of me right now, for being such a coward.” Bowing her head in shame, Belle continued. “I shouldn’t have tried to kiss you on Saturday, but…” She stopped, squeezing her eyes shut.

Letting go of her hand, Rumald hooked his finger under her chin and she opened her eyes, meeting his gaze as he raised her head. He stepped closer to her and his eyes darted from her eyes to her lips, catching her drawing her lower lip into her mouth and biting down onto her lip. Her innocent habit ignited a furious crave inside of Rumald. He could not deny himself any longer. Rumald needed to kiss her. Yearned to press his lips against her soft lips.

Leaning into her, he looked from her lips to her eyes, saw no resistance in her eyes, and looked back to her lips, seeing she had released her lower lip for him. With a slight smirk to his lips, Rumald stooped further towards her, titling his head, and gingerly pressed his lips to hers, initiating the kiss. Pulling back, breaking the kiss, he looked into her eyes for signs of rejection. Belle surged forward at him, capturing his lips with her own, throwing her arms around his neck.

In seconds their initial kiss was over, want, need and passion - took a hold of them. Rumald wrapped his arms around her, enticing her to press herself against his body, while Belle clung to him like nothing else mattered. His hands roamed over her back, hungry to touch every inch of her. Belle grabbed a handful of his overcoat, desperate to keep him from escaping her, while she opened her mouth to him, inviting him to intensify their kiss. Obliging her, Rumald deepened their kiss, tasting her essence mixed with a hint of coffee. Her hands clutched at the back of his head, digging her short nails into his skin, eliciting a sharp pleasure pain. He relished the feeling of being wanted, moaning his pleasure into her mouth, while she tried to devour him, hungrily tasting his mouth and nipping at his lips.

Feeling they were getting carried away, Rumald placed his hand on her shoulder and gently urged her to break the kiss, applying a small amount of pressure onto her shoulder. Her neck was fully extended out, reluctant to end their kiss, as Rumald claimed his lips from her. Belle blinked her eyes open, looking bewildered at him, while her hands sat on his shoulders.

Breathless, he hugged her, guiding her head to rest on his shoulder, burying his head into the side of her hair. The smell of her surrounded him, soothing his racing heart, beating frantically in his chest. It felt like his heart was about explode, any minute, inside of his chest. A need to kiss her again developed. Worried he was about to drop dead from a heart attack, he wanted his last memory to be kissing this beautiful woman.

“What am I going to do?” Belle mumbled into his overcoat.

Rumald eased his hold around her, removing his face from her hair, saying to her as she leant back in his arms. “What do you mean?”

Her hand touched his face and Rumald inclined his face into her touch, listening to her say. “I’m engaged, Rumald. I’m with Gaston.”

“Do you love him?” He asked her directly.

Pressing her hands onto his chest, Belle pushed to gain more space between them, shaking her head at him. “It’s not that simple.”

“How’s it not that simple?” Rumald knitted his brow at her answer and slipped his hands down from her back to her sides.

Belle breathed out heavily before she explained. “Gaston’s parents have agreed to pay off my father’s debts and make future payments to him, if I marry Gaston.”

His eyes grew wide and he shook his head, disbelieving his ears. “Excuse me?”

She rubbed a hand over her forehead and walked out of his hold, wandering to the window of her office. “This is why it’s not that simple. This isn’t just about me.” Belle spun round, waving a hand in the air, as she told him with raw emotion. “I can’t just follow my heart. I’ve got to think of my father and his future.”

“This is a joke, right?” Rumald was flabbergasted.

“I wish it was a joke.” She shared with him, covering her eyes with her hand.

“Why on Earth, would you agree to such a thing!” His voice raised with the anger he felt.

Belle dropped her hand down from her face, exclaiming back at him. “Because it was my only option at the time! You don’t know what it was like! Nobody wanted me! Gaston was the first man, whoever showed an interest in me! I thought it was love and happily agreed, when Gaston’s parents came to me with this arrangement!”

“This isn’t even legal!” Rumald threw at her. “They can’t make you go through with it. You have a choice!”

She gestured to herself. “I gave my word!”

His voice softened as he moved around her chair to get closer to her. “Belle, that’s not a reason to go through with it.”

“I have a chance to help my father out of debt. That’s a reason to go through with it.” Belle told him fiercely, waving off his hands when he tried to touch her.

“If that’s your reason to do it, I’ll pay off his debts.” He half turned, motioning to his shop. “I’ll write off the debts, he owes me, and pay off anything else he owes, if that stops you marrying him.”

“That’s just the same as his parents paying off his debts!” She cried turning away from him.

Rumald carefully placed his hand on her shoulder, stepping closer to her, saying. “It’s not the same.”

Hiding her face behind her hands, Belle said. “Course it is.”

“Belle,” He coaxed her to turn to face him and lowered her hands down from her face, meeting her gaze when she opened her eyes. “It’s not the same, because I love you.”

“What?” She pulled a face at him. “You can’t! You don’t even know me.”

“I know how I feel.” Rumald asserted, caressing the side of his thumb down the side of her face, and exchanged his thumb for the backs of his fingers, the nearer he got to her jawline.

Belle closed her eyes to him. “You’re making this harder.”

“It’s quite simple, sweetheart.” He held her face between his hands and she opened her eyes. “If you don’t love him, don’t marry him.”

They both jumped, when the phone on Belle’s desk shrilled to life. Not wanting to waste an opportunity, Rumald kissed her and smiled against her lips, feeling her return the kiss. Reluctantly, he tore himself away from her and stepped out of her way, following her with his eyes as she went to answer the phone. She greeted, whoever it was, with a pleasant ‘Belle French’.

Listening, Belle smiled. “Principal Hoskins.” She propped her hand on her hip. “I wasn’t expecting you to get back to me so soon.”

Sensing this was going to a long phone call, Rumald went to Belle’s desk and picked up a pen, writing a message on her large notepad. ‘ _Call me’,_ was all he wrote and drew a box around it, adding a couple of hearts and a few flowers around the edge of the box. He smirked dropping the pen on her notepad and slipped by her, pausing press a kiss to her cheek, and exited her office, closing the door behind her. As he left the library, the door closing behind him, Rumald straightened his overcoat, grinning from ear to ear, before he went back to his shop. 


	33. Chapter 33

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Rumald puts his plan into motion and gets an unexpectant visitor.

Resting his nose on his forefinger, his thumb propped under his chin, Rumald skimmed his eyes over the paperwork Jefferson had brought with him, leaning onto his workbench with his elbow. The proposal was very straight forward, but Rumald still read through it, checking for loopholes or anything that may come to bite him in the butt later. He turned the page in the booklet, glancing up to where Jefferson was nosing at the items on the shelves. Jefferson picked up a broken piece of a vase, examined it and returned it to the shelve, moving along the shelving.

“Did someone break in?” Jefferson inquired, his gaze drifting over the broken items.

“Something like that.” Rumald mumbled as he began to read the next page, avoiding the conversation.

Jefferson ran his fingers over the surface of a wooden cabinet, drifting round to follow the wall of items back to Rumald, saying. “I might pop and see Belle after this.”

Hearing Belle’s name, Rumald lifted his chin off his hand. “Belle?”

“Yeah, I might go and see her at the library.” Jefferson repeated himself, hooking his thumb over his shoulder at the direction of the library. “Regina said, Belle works there and I saw it was across the street.”

“Yes, she does.” Rumald rested his chin back onto his thumb and rubbed his finger over his top lip, concentrating on the booklet.

Jefferson plonked himself down onto the stool, he had been sat on earlier, and drank from his coffee, eyeing Rumald across the workbench. Rumald could feel Jefferson’s eyes on him, but ignored him, moving his attention to the next page. On the cusp of Rumald’s view, he saw Jefferson pick up a piece of a clock, Rumald had been dismantling when Jefferson had arrived. Reaching across the workbench, Rumald claimed the piece back from Jefferson and put it out of Jefferson’s reach. He turned to the last page in the booklet, glimpsing up to Jefferson, who looked bored with his arms crossed over his chest, gazing round the back room. edge

“I wished my workshop looked like this.” Jefferson shared with Rumald, twisting to see more of the room behind him.

Rumald sat up and closed the booklet. “Looks all good to me.”

“It does?” Jefferson questioned, looking surprised.

“Why wouldn’t it?” Rumald asked picking up his coffee to drink from it.

Jefferson’s eyes widened for a second before he explained. “Well… The business loan guy said it was too much of a risk.”

“There’s a small amount of risk, but it’s only money.” Rumald put his cup down. “I’m more than sure, that between us, we can make this work.”

“Really?” Jefferson smiled.

Rumald picked up the booklet and moved it to sit on a pile of papers, he had stacked ready to take home with him, saying. “I’ve got a few things, I need to sort out this month, but I don’t see a reason, why we can’t start looking for a property next month.”

“That soon?” Jefferson asked, shocked.

He shrugged a single shoulder at Jefferson and waved his right hand through the air. “It would’ve been next week, if, like I said, I didn’t have a few things going on already.”

“Wow.” Jefferson smiled again.

“I’ll get a contract together and get Dove to bring it over to you…” Rumald was thinking about it as he stood up, taking his cup to the kitchen area. “Probably… Next week?”

“Yeah, that’ll be perfect.” Jefferson followed him and met Rumald, when he turned round, with his hand held out to shake Rumald’s. “Thank you, Rumald.”

Rumald smiled half a smile at him, taking hold of Jefferson’s hand to shake it firmly. “Thank me, when it’s done.”

Jefferson grinned, resting his hands on his hips, saying to Rumald. “I can’t wait to get home and tell Grace.”

“I’m sure, she’ll be over the moon.” Rumald told him, placing his hand onto Jefferson’s shoulder. “The two of you, have a lot to celebrate.”

Ambling away from Jefferson, back to his workbench, Rumald sat down onto his stool as Jefferson changed the subject. “How’re things with you and Belle?”

Rumald was not prepared for such a question and could not help, snapping his gaze to Jefferson, as his eyes bulged at the question. “What?”

“I mean after the party on Saturday,” Jefferson came over to the workbench, gesturing with his hand. “I’m guessing you found her after we all went back to the party.”

“Oh, yeah… I forgot about that.” Rumald sounded distant, thinking Saturday felt so long ago.

Jefferson picked up a screwdriver from bench and played with it as he asked. “So, where did she go?”

“Actually, I don’t know.” Rumald confessed to Jefferson. “She came back to the room on her own and we didn’t really talk about it.”

“You didn’t?” Jefferson looked confused. “Not even discussed, why she bolted in the first place?”

Rumald shrugged with his hands. “No, not really.” He lied. “You’d have to ask her.”

“I will go and do that now.” Jefferson beamed a smile at Rumald before crossing to the coat stand to collect his coat, and put it on, coming back to the workbench, and held his hand out again to Rumald. “Thank you again, Rumald.”

“It’s nothing, honestly.” Rumald felt uncomfortable, but shook Jefferson’s hand.

“When you’ve lost everything, Rumald, you’re thankful for every day that gives you meaning to go one.” Jefferson stated, a sullen look came over Jefferson’s face, contemplating his own comment.

Rumald sensed, Jefferson was talking about his dead wife and his near death experience. He swallowed at the uncomfortable lump in his throat, unable to find any words to comfort his friend. Unable to comprehend the lost, Jefferson and Grace had experienced and never wanted to, either.

A pained look was in Jefferson’s eyes before he blinked his eyes and smiled broadly, straightening this back, saying to Rumald. “I’m going to go and see Belle.”

“She’s normally there at this time.” Rumald checked the time on his watch.

“That’s a bit stalker-ish.” Jefferson indicated to Rumald by waving his finger at him.

Rumald gave Jefferson a lopsided smile. “Innocent, I assure you.”

“I’m not one to judge.” Jefferson said, touching his hand to his chest, adding. “I think I knew, Priscilla’s schedule, better than she did.”

A quiet descended over both of them. Neither of them knew what to say after Jefferson’s wife had been mentioned. Jefferson gazed sadly down at the screwdriver in his hands, twiddling the flat blade of the screwdriver between his fingertips. Feeling uneasy, Rumald remained perfectly still, waiting for Jefferson to say or do something.

Jefferson forced a smile as he put the screwdriver down on the table. “I miss her so much.”

“I couldn’t imagine.” Rumald was honest, clasping his hands down, between his legs.

“Anyway,” Jefferson spun to the doorway and walked a couple of paces before he turned back, saying. “I’m going and I’ll be in touch.”

Rumald braced a small smile for Jefferson, not sure what else he could offer, as his friend turned his back to Rumald and strolled out of the back room into the front. Shortly after that, the bell above the front door rung and jangled with the door closing. Looking down at his hands, playing with the silver band on his right ring finger, Rumald really could not imagine what Jefferson had gone through.

Of course, Rumald had experienced lost, but not as final as Jefferson’s lost. All the people Rumald had ever lost, were still alive and from time to time, came back into his life. For Jefferson, he would never get the chance to talk to Priscilla again, never get to kiss her, to hold her, to express the longing in his heart. No, she was gone and there was nothing Jefferson could do about it. Rumald had a choice with his lost – welcome them with open arms or banish them for good.

He bowed his head, considering the people he had lost and gained in his life. The only person, Rumald could really think about, was Belle. She had not called him yesterday or today. Neither had she returned his calls or messages, he had sent her through the morning. Rumald did not know what to make of it. All he knew, was the pain in his chest, was excruciating. The only thing, stopping him from banging down the library door, ringing her phone until it died and screaming her name until she answered him, was his fear that he would push her away. He may not understand, the pain of permanently losing someone, but he definitely understood, the fear of losing something precious.

Rumald looked up from his fingers, gazing at nothing specifically, while contemplated his next move. The previous evening, he had thought of nothing else, apart from Belle and the agreement Gaston’s parents had made with her. The bargain they had made with her was preposterous. In the day and aged, they lived in, it was outrageous to make an arrangement, where they exchanged her hand in marriage for money. But he feared, it was Belle’s stubbornness that would be his downfall.

She had been adamant that she had given her word to Gaston and his parents. Seeing as her father was the main person to benefit from the marriage, Rumald knew Maurice would be the last person, who would ever try and talk her out of it. Rumald doubted that Belle’s friends new about the arrangement. Otherwise, he would hope, they would talk some sense into her and stop her from making a huge mistake. Rumald had made enough of them and had to live with the regret every day. He did not want that for her. He wanted her life to filled with happiness. Wanted her to live her life to fullest, instead of being held back by her love for her father. She deserved to have her dreams, and anything else she wanted, without the shackles of unquestionable loyalty, holding her back. And if it meant, Rumald had to let her go, so she could accomplish all of this… He would, because he genuinely loved her.

Driven to do something, Rumald jumped up from the stool he had been sitting on, snatched his coat from the coat stand and left the shop, without locking up behind him. He strode at a fast pace, glancing to the library, as he tugged at the lapels of his overcoat and then at the sleeves of his arms. ‘ _No more, empty promises.’_ , he voiced in his mind, reminding himself of the vow he had taken.

At the other end of Main Street, Rumald arrived at his destination and walked by the display of flowers outside, and twisting the door handle to gain entrance. The door creaked as Rumald stepped into the shop, closing the door to a jar behind him. The strong aroma of the different flowers assaulted Rumald’s senses as it did, whenever he visited the small shop. Gazing round at the shop, Rumald followed the small path to the counter, a sea of flowers either side of him. The display of roses caught Rumald’s eye as he got nearer to the counter. He smirked, thinking of the fare, where he had given her a single rose.

“Mr Gold!” Maurice cried, clutching several bunches of flowers to his chest, stood in the doorway to the back room.

“Mr French.” Rumald held his hands behind his back, a sly grin on his face.

Maurice’s brow pressed heavily down over his eyes, deep lines etched into his forehead, as he hesitantly asked. “It’s not rent day today, is it?”

“No, Mr French.” Rumald revelled at the effect his presence had on Maurice. “Next week.”

“Oh… What can I do for you then?” Maurice inquired, uncertain of himself.

Rumald unclasped his hands from behind his back and motioned to the display of roses, saying. “I’m after a red rose.”

Maurice’s body relaxed and his hold around the bunches of flowers eased, believing Rumald was there for a rose, and came out from behind to his counter, telling Rumald. “Is that just a single rose? Or would you like a bunch of them?”

“Just a single one.” Rumald answered, watching Maurice deliver the different bunches to their assigned buckets.

“Not a problem, Mr Gold.” Maurice smiled at Rumald as he put the last bunch into a bucket and took a few steps to the display of roses, picking one out. “This one’s quite perfect. Hasn’t opened up too much.” He showed the rose to Rumald as he waltzed by him, returning to the other side of his counter, a small spring in his step.

Rumald flicked back the right flap of his overcoat and dipped his hand into his pants pocket, pulling out his money clip, while Maurice wrapped a piece of paper around the single rose, asking Rumald. “Anything else?”

“Yes.” Rumald pulled a ten-dollar bill from his clip and held it out to Maurice, telling him. “And your account books.”

“Excuse me?” Maurice froze with his fingers on the ten-dollar bill, held by both of them.

“Your account books. I want them.” Rumald stated plainly to Maurice.

Maurice snatched the dollar bill from Rumald’s fingers. “What for?”

“Because” Rumald smiled evilly at Maurice. “You have an outstanding loan with me, for a considerable amount, and I want to check, whether you’re still able to pay for this loan. Dove has told me, how you’re struggling to pay your rent and the loan.” He placed his hand on his chest and continued. “It’d be irresponsible of me, as a moneylender and your landlord, to not address the issues that you’re having.”

“By taking my books?!” Maurice exclaimed, horrified.

Rumald waved his hand, saying to Maurice. “Section Sixteen-B-Two, in your loan agreement, allows me to revaluate the loan at any time I see fit.”

“You’ve got to be joking?” Maurice questioned as his shoulders slumped.

“Not at all, Mr French.” Rumald held his hand out to Maurice. “Hand them over.”

“I can’t believe this.” Maurice threw the money and the wrapped rose onto the counter, and stormed into the back room, coming back seconds later with three large books. “You won’t get away with this, Mr Gold. Be sure, I’ll be reading my agreement, as soon as you leave.” And dumped the account books onto the counter, squashing the wrapped rose.

Taking a step closer, Rumald smiled at Maurice and picked up the account books, and hefted them under his left arm. Maurice’s face was twisted with disgust as he watched Rumald turn his back to Maurice. Sauntering away, Rumald picked himself another rose from the display on his way to the door, glimpsing at Maurice over his shoulder as he did it. Maurice’s lips curled into a snarl. Scoffing at Maurice, he waltzed to the door and yanked opened the door, creaking at the sudden movement, and walked out of the flower shop closing the door behind him. Rumald lingered on the other side of the door, provoking Maurice with just a look through the window in the door.

Satisfied, Rumald walked away from the flower shop, examining the delicate rose in his hand. Raising the rose to his nose, he smelt its subtle fragrance, disappointed the rose did not smell of Belle. He lowered it from his nose, missing her, as he stepped off the kerb to cross Main Street. Although, he was loathed to admit it, Rumald felt good, for doing something for her instead of for his own necessity. Breathing in, smiling, he felt like he could take on anything, which stood in his way – Gaston, Maurice, his own self-doubt. There was a warm, fuzzy feeling in his chest, while he crossed at the intersection to the library, walking diagonally over the street to the library’s parking lot. His gaze was on the library, caught by the beacon of her, drawn to her.

As Rumald stepped onto the opposing kerb, he dipped his gaze to the rose and smelt it again, touching the soft petals to the tip of his nose. Drunk on the thought of Belle, he moseyed by the corner of the library, entering the parking lot, and went over to Belle’s car. He smirked, glancing at the library, and slid the rose into the door handle of the driver’s door. Tweaking it, making sure it was secure and straight, Rumald eyed the rose on her door. Happy, he traipsed away from her car, passed the library and back to his shop.

When Rumald emerged from the back door of his shop, carrying the stack of papers, Jefferson’s booklet and Maurice’s account books, it was early in the evening. He struggled to open the passenger door of his Cadillac and heaved the large, heavy pile onto the passenger seat, groaning at the strain on his back. Slowly, Rumald recoiled himself out of the car and stood up, pushing the passenger close with his gaze drifting to the library, shrouded in darkness. Huffing a breath, irritated he had not had the chance to see her, Rumald went back into his shop and locked up for the evening.

The drive from his shop to his home was short. Rumald swung the Cadillac into his drive, driving all the way up to park in front of his garage. The exterior light came on as he climbed out of the car and ambled around the front of his car to the passenger side, collecting his pile of papers from the passenger seat. Using his hip, he knocked the passenger shut and headed to the back door, struggling with his pile as he fingered through his keys to find the back door key.

It was as he was on the back patio, Rumald realised the lights were on inside of his house, pouring light through the windows onto the patio. Cautious, but unafraid, he approached the French doors, leading to his kitchen, and tried the handle to find them unlocked. Rumald swung the door open, stepping warily into his kitchen, hearing dampened sound of music being played upstairs. He deposited his pile of papers to the kitchen island, his eyes watchful for any movement in the foyer, while he quickly snuck from the kitchen into the dining room, and then through into the living room. The lights were all on in the living room and Rumald spotted a discarded cup and plate on the coffee table, knowing he had not left them there. He scrutinised the cup and plate, while he crouched down, opening a cupboard to enter a pin into a small safe. The safe beeped and the door opened, granting him access to his gun.

Armed with his gun, Rumald strolled steadily through the living room, his gaze gradually looking up the staircase as he entered the foyer. He carefully made his way up the stairs, missing the steps that creaked, aiming his gun ahead of him. Stooping in height as he got to the stop of the stairs, Rumald peeped through the rails of the banister, finding the door to his son’s room was open and the source of the music. Slowly, he grew back to his normal height, edging to the entrance of his son’s room, holding his gun out ready in front of him.

Rumald placed his hand onto door to his son’s room, gradually pushing it further open, sweeping the room with his gun as it was revealed to him. He stepped into the room, checking behind the door, finding no one in there. Confused, Rumald ducked his head back out of the door, looking down the hallway for any other sides of the intruder. Hearing a door open, he held up his gun, aiming it down the hallway as he clicked off the safety.

Holding his breath in anticipation of what was to come, Rumald was flooded with thoughts of Belle, of things they had done, of things they had not done, of what could have been. In that brief second, he was saddened by all of these thoughts, grieving the endless possibilities. He asked himself, whether she truly understood, how he felt about her. How grateful he was that she had come into his life and given him a reason to live instead of just existing. How all he wanted, every second of every minute of every day, was to be right by her side, witnessing the wonder of her. How he was addicted to just the sight of her, craving her as soon as he woke up and wanting one last hit before he fell asleep. Rumald doubted, she knew all of these things and felt his regret like a punch to his gut, forcing out the breath he had been holding.

A towel cladded figure came out of the bathroom, rubbing another towel at their hair, and Rumald recognised them instantly. “Neal?”

Neal looked to his father and jumped a step back, dropping his towel, holding his hands out in front of him. “Dad!”

Rumald glanced from Neal to the gun and clicked on the safety, lowering his gun, as he asked. “What’re you doing here?”

“I took your advice.” Neal was still alarmed as he lowered his hands, his eyes on the gun in his father’s hand. “I called Emma and we’ve arranged to meet.”

“You did?” Rumald smiled at his son.

“What’re you doing with that gun?” Neal questioned, flinging his hand to gesture to the item in question.

Rumald raised the gun to see it and stuffed it into his overcoat pocket, waving his free hand to dismiss Neal’s worry, saying. “I didn’t know you were coming.”

“I didn’t realise, I had to tell you when I was coming home.” Neal commented, bending over to pick up his discarded towel from the floor.

“You don’t.” Rumald said as Neal started down the hallway towards him. “Sorry, I’m just so used to it, only being me.”

Neal stopped in front of his father and placed his hand on his father’s shoulder, smiling warmly at his father as he said. “It’s okay, dad. I understand.”

“Where’re you meeting Emma?” Rumald asked, changing the subject, returning his son’s smile.

“Erm…” Neal’s brow hunched over his eyes. “She said, the hen-do would be starting at O’Malley’s and then, they’d be going to the Rabbit Hole.”

“Hen-do?” Rumald scrunched his forehead at his son, twisting to follow his son into his bedroom with his gaze.

“Belle’s.” Neal answered, tossing the towel in his hand onto the bed.

Rumald shut his eyes, feeling the dagger plunge into his chest for a second time that week. He breathed in heavily, squeezing his eyes at the pain. Staggering a step back, Rumald grabbed at the doorframe, frightened his legs were about to give out from underneath him. It felt like someone had shoved their hand into his chest, digging their fingers into his heart, squeezing the life out of him.

“Dad?” Neal inquired. “You okay?”

“Yeah, I’m fine.” He strained a smile onto his face, opening his eyes to look at his son, relinquishing his hold on the doorframe.

Neal laid his towel, which had been around his waist, onto a chair, stood in the middle of his bedroom in his underwear, suggesting to his father. “I can stay home, if you’re not feeling alright.”

“No, no.” Rumald stepped into his son’s room, waving a hand at his son’s suggestion. “I want you to go out and meet with Emma.” An idea popped into his head. “Actually, I might come with you.”

“What?” Neal jerked his head forward, shocked by his father.

Rumald went over to his son, holding his son by his shoulders, telling him. “Don’t worry. I won’t bother you and Emma. I’ll just… come for a drink.”

Neal gave his father a look. “You mean you’re coming to see Belle?”

“If that happens…” A sly smile spread Rumald’s lips as he gestured with his hand. “Then we’ll call it fate.”

“It’s her hen-do, dad.” Neal reminded his father.

“Fate has a funny sense of humour?” Rumald proposed, raising his eyebrows at his son.

His son did not look amused with him, but said. “Fine.”

Rumald patted his son’s shoulder and turned to leave his son’s room, giving him some privacy, as he told him. “I’m ready whenever you want to go. I’ll just grab something to eat downstairs.”

“Whoa…” Neal called after his father, causing Rumald to stop and turn in the doorway. “You’re going like that?”

Bending his head to look down at himself, Rumald held his hands out, uncertain what was wrong with his appearance. “Like what?”

“You look like you’ve just left work.” Neal faulted, waving his hand up and down in the air, gesturing to Rumald’s appearance.

“I have just left work…” Rumald raised a cynical eyebrow at his son.

“Yeah, I know, but…” Neal struggled to find the right words and threw his hands up in the air, saying. “I don’t know. Could you not change or something? I just want to make a good first impression.”

Rumald crossed his arms over his chest. “Neal, you’ve known Emma since you were kids. I think she’s already got an idea of what you’re like. And me changing, is not going to affect what she thinks of you.”

“Dad…” Neal put his hands on his hips, giving Rumald a disapproving look, much like the ones Milah used to give him.

It had been a long time, since something had reminded Rumald of Milah and their time together. The arguments, the weeks of silence, the betrayal. Yet, he smiled fondly thinking of her. Remembering the early days of their romance – their clumsy meeting and the subsequent nights of passion, which had given them Neal. It should have been a fairy tale ending. They had dreams of marrying, moving to America and living out their days together. Rumald could not remember the moment, when everything changed and they lost sight of their goal. It was a haze with all the arguments and the accusations. But… At least, Rumald had Neal to keep him going after she abandoned them.

Giving in to his son, Rumald groaned and unfolded his arms, turning to leave as he moaned at his son. “Fine, I’ll go and change,” He twisted to point at his son. “But only for you.”

“Thank you.” Neal smiled.

Rumald walked away from his son’s door and went few the open doorway, a few doors down from his son’s room, and entered his bedroom, removing his overcoat. Dropping it to lay over the foot of his bed, he caught sight of the handle of the gun, poking out from the pocket of his coat. Thankful, he had not accidentally shot Neal, Rumald closed his eyes to say a pray of thanks.

Removing his suit jacket and his waistcoat, leaving them on his bed, Rumald removed his tie, whipping it through his collar, and discarded it on top of his suit jacket and waistcoat. He began to unbutton his shirt, working from the top down, Rumald contemplated what he was going to wear as he mooched over to his wardrobe to open it. His shirt hung open, the tails caught in the waist of his pants, while he flicked through his selection of shirts and picked out a navy coloured shirt. Moving everything across on the rail, Rumald eyed his small collection of jeans and selected a pair of light blue jeans. He took them over to the bed, holding the hangers in one hand, and pulled his shirt out from his pants.

He changed into his fresh shirt and jeans, and checked his appearance in the full length mirror, which was on the front of his wardrobe. Seeing himself, dressed so casual, was unnerving. His suit was his armour and without it, Rumald felt vulnerable. He had a worried expression on his face as he took in his appearance again. Sliding his hand down the front of chest, skimming over the buttons of his shirt, Rumald questioned whether he should change, when he spotted Neal in the reflection, entering his bedroom.

“Much better.” Neal commented, coming up behind his father. “Though, I’d probably untuck your shirt.”

“What?” Rumald crooked his neck to see his son’s face.

“You look a little uptight.” Neal said stepping back from his father, looking at Rumald’s clothes.

Rumald shook his head with disbelief at his son and said. “I’ll have you know, I’ve been dressing myself long before you, were even a twinkle in your mother’s eye.” He went back to looking at his reflection in the mirror. “No, I’m not untucking my shirt.” He laughed at the suggestion, shaking his head again.

“It was just a suggestion.” Neal defended as Rumald sat onto the edge of his bed and put his shoes back on from earlier.

“You might as well suggest, I shave my head and stick my hair on my face.” Rumald continued to shake his head at his son.

Neal put his hands on his hips. “Now, you’re just being ridiculous.”

“Just like your suggestion.” Rumald threw back at his son, picking his other shoe off the floor to put onto his foot.

“Whatever.” Neal rolled his eyes, dropping his hands from his hips, saying to Rumald. “Anyway, Emma’s just texted to say, they’re at the Rabbit Hole.”

“Vile establishment.” Rumald grumbled as he tied his shoe laces.

“Surprised you’ve never bought the business.” Neal shared with his father, watching his father stand up from the bed, adjusting his jeans on his waist.

Rumald pressed his brow over his eyes. “Why?”

Neal mirrored his father’s look. “Because it’s the number one vile establishment in town.”

“It’s bad enough, I own the building.” Rumald stooped to collect his things, from the clothes he had been wearing previously. “I don’t want any further disgrace of my name being associated with that place.”

“You’re worried about your name with your reputation?” Neal questioned, eyeing his father after Rumald had stood up, pocketing his items.

Rumald titled his head to the side, regarding his son, as he said wagging his finger at Neal. “Just because you’re ever so slightly taller than me, doesn’t mean I can’t put you over my knee, laddie.”

Neal smirked at his father. “Okay, dad.”

Amused, Rumald smiled as he collected his overcoat from the bed and putting it on, whilst he left his bedroom with Neal, tagging along behind him. Running his fingers round his shirt collar, tucking it into his overcoat, Rumald ran his hands down the lapels of his overcoat from his shirt collar, feeling naked under his overcoat. He was really missing the feel of his armour under his overcoat.

At the bottom of the stairs, Rumald headed straight into the living room and returned his gun back to the small safe, and closed the cabinet door to conceal it. He stood up from where he had knelt on the floor, feeling a chill sweeping through the dining room. Following the chill through the dining room, Rumald came out into the kitchen, finding the French doors he had left open earlier, thinking there was an intruder in his house. Rumald rolled his eyes and closed the door to lock them.

“We can take my car, if you like?” Neal suggested, putting on his coat in the foyer.

“Sure.” Rumald smiled as he replied to his son, flicking the lights off in the dining room and the kitchen.

Neal pulled his keys out of his pocket, while he opened the front door, watching his father turn off the lights in the living room. Following his son through the front door, Rumald turned off the foyer light and turned on the porch light, and closed the front door to lock it. By the time, Rumald had gotten down the porch steps and got to Neal’s car at the kerb, Neal had the car running and the door open for his father.

Driving by the Rabbit Hole, Rumald looked at the building and the people loitering outside of the bar as they drove passed it to turn into the parking lot. Neal pulled into an empty spot and parked his car. Without saying anything, the pair got out of the car and Neal locked it, whilst they trudged their way across the parking lot to the Rabbit Hole. They came around the corner of the building and several people looked up, staring as Rumald strolled by them with his son. He ignored their looks and gestured for his son to precede him into the building.

On opening the door, the music boomed out of the bar, deafening Rumald as he entered the bar, sweeping his gaze over the faces in the bar. Neal had gone straight to the bar, unaware his father had stopped just after entering, searching for her in the crowd. There was a mass of people on the dancefloor, bobbing and weaving in different directions, dancing to the beat of the music. Rumald moved his gaze from table to table, looking for a group of girls, hoping they were her hen party. Not able to see them, he walked over to join Neal, still looking round the bar to find her. Sidling up next to his son at the bar, Rumald touched his hand to Neal’s back, about to offer to buy his son a drink, when Neal slid a glass of whiskey in front of his father. Genuinely surprised, Rumald picked up the glass, smiling at the kindness of his son.

Neal leaned into his father, talking directly into Rumald’s ear. “Let’s find a table.”

“Chance would be a fine thing.” Rumald commented back.

“Over there.” Neal tapped his father and pointed to an obscure corner of the bar.

Stepping out of the way of his son, Rumald waved for his son to go first and trailed behind him, keeping an eye out for Belle as he crossed the bar. As he walked by some occupied tables, people turned and twisted to see him, watching him follow his son. Rumald avoided their gazes and greeted Neal with a warm smile, hiding his awkwardness he was feeling, when his son gestured to a small empty table in the corner of the room. Nodding his head at his son, he pulled a chair out from the small table, setting his drink down on the table, and shrugged his overcoat from himself to lay over the back of his chair. Feeling very self-aware, Rumald smoothed his hands down the front of his shirt and adjusted the waist of his jeans before he sat down, joining his son at the table.

“Place is always packed on a Wednesday.” Neal raised his voice for Rumald to hear him over the music.

“Why’s that?” Rumald asked, hunching himself onto the table.

Neal held up his drink to illustrate. “Half price drinks. What better way to get people to come in mid-week?”

Rumald grimaced. “Watered down as well, no doubt.”

“Probably.” Neal then drank from his bottle of beer, roaming his eyes over the bar.

“I haven’t seen them.” Rumald said, hoping to coax Neal into contacting Emma.

“They’re here somewhere.” Neal remarked, sitting sideways in his seat, settling his back against the wall with his arm over the back of his chair.

Rumald raised his glass to his lips. “I’m sure, she’ll be wondering, if you’re here as well.”

“I thought, I’d have a drink with you first.” Neal turned his head to look at his father.

“Don’t be stupid.” Rumald told his son after he had sipped his whiskey, tasting the awful whiskey he had on his first visit to the Rabbit Hole. “Go and find her son.”

Neal slide round in his seat, facing his father, and said to Rumald. “Dad, I don’t want to just leave you here.”

“Neal, I like to think, that I’m grown up enough to be left on my own. Go and find Emma.” Rumald told his son, extending his arm across the table to touch his son’s hand.

“What about you?” Neal questioned, looking torn.

“Fate will decide, son.” Rumald smiled encouragingly at his son and gave his hand a squeeze.

Standing up from his seat, Neal came to his father’s side of the table and kissed the top of Rumald’s head, and told him. “Thank you, dad.”

Rumald looked up to his son, but found Neal had turned his back to him and was wandering off into the crowd. “Neal, text her first!”

“What?” Neal shouted back, hearing a wisp of what his father had said.

“Neal!” Rumald called, while Neal excused himself through a group of people and was swallowed up by them.

Thwarted by his own son, Rumald dropped his hands heavily onto the table, sloshing a small amount of the foul whiskey out of his glass. He lifted his hand from the glass and looked at the traces of the amber liquid on his hand. Repulsed by it, Rumald flicked his hand to rid himself of the horrid whiskey. Still feeling its wetness on the back of his hand, he rubbed the back of his hand on the leg of his jeans, checking his hand to see it was gone.

He laid his arms onto the table, encircling his glass with his forearms, and played with his ring on his right hand. Pondering about messaging Belle, Rumald pressed his lips together, squeezing his lips into a thin line. There was no reason, why he could not message her, even if she had not answered his earlier messages, did not mean he could not message her again. Though, letting his eyes comb over the bar, Rumald suspected Belle would not have heard her phone over the loud music. Although, yes, there was such a thing as vibrate, so she might have felt it… Unless she was keeping it in her purse, then she probably would not feel it.

Feeling foolish, Rumald bent his right arm up and pinched the bridge of his nose, shaking his head at himself. He had been such a fool. He did not know, why he had listened to his heart, answering the pleading request of his heart to be close to her. Rumald let go of his nose and rubbed his hand over the lines drawn across his forehead, easing the tension. Raising his glass of whiskey to his lips, he held his head in his hand, pulling a face at the whiskey as he drank it. He licked his lips a few times, trying to rid himself of the taste, while he put his glass down onto the table. ‘ _Not even cheap whiskey, tastes that bad.’_ , Rumald thought to himself, pushing the nearly empty glass away from him.

Rumald stood up from the table, collecting his overcoat to put over his arm, and left the table, strolling back through the occupied tables to the entrance. He did not pause at the door for one last glance around the bar. He pulled open the door and went outside, feeding his arms into his overcoat as he got outside. The chatting outside hushed and Rumald looked either way down the sidewalk, looking at the people huddled together, whispering and smoking. He turned up the collar of his overcoat and wrapped it around him to button up the front, whilst he stepped off the kerb and crossed the road to go to Main Street. Slipping his hands into the pockets of his overcoat, Rumald set himself a quick pace, wanting to get home to his decent bottle of whiskey.

Walking up Main Street, a good hundred yards from the Rabbit Hole, he heard a distant call of his name. Rumald halted and pivoted round, squinting his eyes to see, who had called him by his first name.

“Rumald!” She called again, running in her heels.

Rumald pulled his hands out of his pockets. “Belle?”

“I just saw Neal.” Belle said, out of breath, when she slowed to a walk a few feet away from him.

“Did he find Emma?” Rumald inquired, his eyebrows raised in hope.

“Yeah,” She twisted to gesture back to the bar and waved her hand limply through the air, turning back to face him. “I left them chatting.”

Rumald pointed at her heels. “You shouldn’t run in those. You’ll break your neck.”

She came to a stop in front of him, her chest heaving for breath, as she frowned at him. “Did you take my father’s account books today?”

“I may have done.” He replied as he slid his hands into his overcoat pockets, feeling the cold nip at his fingers.

“Why?” Belle questioned, moving closer to him.

“I’m creating a loophole for you.” He went on to further explain. “I’ve told you, I’ll pay off your father’s debts and then you don’t need to marry Gaston. I don’t want anything in return. I’m doing it solely to help you.”

She rolled her eyes at him. “I’ve given my word.”

“I don’t care about your word.” Rumald confessed, edging closer to her, so he could touch the back of his fingers to her cheek.

Belle pulled his hand down from her face, telling him. “If you care about me, like you say you do, then you should care because I care.”

“Not when it means you’re going to marry him.” Rumald shook his head at her, removing his hand from her grasp.

“I’ve told you, this has been arranged.” She told him, grabbing him by the lapels of his overcoat. “I can’t back out of it now. The wedding is on Sunday.”

“Yes, you can! You have a choice!” He insisted forcefully and desperately pleaded with her. “Tell me, you love him! Go on! Tell me and I’ll leave you alone!”

“Rumald, please.” Belle whispered to him with her head bowed, tightly clutching at his lapels, pulling him forward into her.

Cupping her face with his hands, he inclined her head to look her dead in the eye, pushing her for an answer. “Tell me and I’ll stop.”

“I…” Her face showed the anguish she was feeling and it killed Rumald to see her like that. “I…” Belle closed her eyes, her shoulders slumped as she confessed. “I don’t love him… I love you.”

Gazing at her face, Rumald tenderly stroked his thumb over her soft, red cheek. Her eyes opened to meet his gaze, revealing a sadness in her eyes. Puzzled by the sadness he saw, Rumald substituted his thumb for the backs of his fingers, caressing her cheek with the softest of touches. Her eyes fluttered shut for a moment and when she opened them again, Belle had a more determined look in her eyes, whilst she grabbed Rumald’s hand caressing her cheek to place a gentle kiss to the backs of his fingers.

Jealous of his fingers, Rumald swooped in and captured her lips, threading his fingers into her hair. The momentum of him moving into her, made her unsteady on her feet and she grabbed at the shoulders of his overcoat. He encircled an arm around her, hauling her closer, pressing her against the length of his body. Hungrily, Rumald kissed her, and nipped and licked at her lips, greedy to have more of her.

“Not here!” She exclaimed, her voice muffled by their kiss.

Rumald snatched his lips away from her. “What?”

“We can’t.” Belle explained, looking round, alarmed someone might have seen them. “Not here.”

“Tomorrow. Come for dinner.” He posed to her.

She shook her head at him. “I can’t. I’m collecting my dress tomorrow evening.”

“Belle, you can’t…” Rumald was going to protest, but stopped when she shushed him a single finger over his lips, saying. “Friday. I can do Friday.”

“You can’t go through with it, Belle.” He softly declared to her after she removed her finger.

Belle closed her eyes and took a breath, and opened her eyes, smiling at him. “Thank you, by the way.”

“For what?” He questioned her with a scowl.

“For my rose.” She laid her hand against his face as she answered him. “It made my day.”

Even though, he did not feel like it, Rumald smiled and angled his face into her touch. Belle leaned in and kissed him, and quickly retracted herself from him, glimpsing round in case someone saw them.

“I better get back.” Belle told him, though she kept her hand on his face, caressing his cheek.

“Don’t go.” He begged, tightening his arm around her.

“I’ve got to.” She insisted.

Half-heartedly, Rumald lowered his arm from around her, freeing her from his grasp. Giving him a lopsided smile, Belle took her hand away from his face and backed away from him. He watched with slumped shoulders as she whirled round and strode decisively back down Main Street. Not able to watch her any longer, Rumald shuffled round, feeling deflated, and set off home, wanting his bottle of whiskey more than ever.


	34. Chapter 34

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Their evening had been going so well...

Rumald stood on the back step of his house, sipping a glass of red wine as he gazed up at the stars above him. Gloom had shadowed him since he had walked away from Belle Wednesday night. He was angry with her. He could not understand, why she was so adamant to go through with the wedding, while he had offered her a way out of it. Indifferent to whether she would like it or not, Rumald had spent his Thursday, from morning till night, going through Maurice’s books, corrected the minor mistakes and had paid off Maurice’s debts, three hundred and fifty-seven thousand worth of debt. The figure astounded Rumald, but to put that kind of price tag on Belle was an outrage.

Dove had returned the account books, that morning, to be verbally abused by Maurice, throwing insults and threats of lawyers and accountants at his trusted employee. Just as requested, Dove had mentioned nothing of what had been done to Maurice. He had kindly thanked Maurice for the books and had left. A final threat of speaking to the Sheriff was slung at Dove, as he had exited the shop, but Rumald had laughed when Dove had told him, a smirk on his employees face.

Drinking some more of his wine, Rumald checked the time on his wrist and lowered his hand, delving his hand into his pants pocket, seeing he had twenty minutes until she arrived. His brain wanted him to call it off, text her and tell her their dinner was cancelled. Rumald licked at the taste of his wine from his lips, ignoring the small voice at the back of his mind. He had spent a lifetime listening to that voice, hiding and skulking, scheming to get what he wanted. So far, Rumald had kept his word to himself and was listening to his heart, and his heart was telling him to go after her with everything Rumald had. Otherwise, soon, she would be gone… Forever.

With that sullen thought, Rumald turned and went back inside his house, closing the French door behind him. He placed his glass on the kitchen island and went to the stove to lift the lid on simmering vegetables, and checked on the beef tenderloin steaks, he was roasting in the oven, potatoes nestling in and around the steaks. Everything looked done, so Rumald turned off the stove and the oven, grabbing his oven mitt from the kitchen island behind him. Skilfully, Rumald removed the tray from the oven and sat the steaks to rest on his wooden chopping board, while he served the potatoes onto the awaiting plates. He crushed the potatoes, scooping a small amount of butter onto the crushed potatoes. Watching the butter melt and cascade over the crushed potatoes, Rumald smiled.

As he was serving some vegetables onto the plates, his doorbell rang in the foyer. Rumald glanced, seeing a figure stood on the other side of the coloured glass, and dumped the pan into the sink. Hurrying out of his kitchen, he grabbed a tea towel on his journey to the door and wiped his hands on it before he opened the front door. Belle was stood on the porch, offering a smile for him as he slowly revealed her. He swallowed at the sight of her, dropping the towel onto the floor, stunned by her appearance.

“Hi.” She waved her hand, nervous. “I’m not early, am I?”

“Bang on time.” He mumbled, slowly travelling his eyes down her dress, her legs to her heels, and back up to meet her eyes.

“Can I come in or are you going to gawk at me all night?” Belle posed to him, putting her left hand on her hip, shifting her weight onto her left hip.

Rumald waved a hand to invite her inside. “Both.”

She stooped as she came into the house, collecting his towel from the floor to hand it to him, giving him a sultry smile. “I think you dropped this.”

“Yes.” Rumald muttered, angling his head to get a view of her behind, as she stood up. “Yes, I did.”

Belle giggled at him, while Rumald took the towel from her and closed the front door, telling him. “Something smells good.”

“I was just serving.” He placed a hand on the small of her back and waved his other hand to the kitchen, while he led her through into the kitchen. “Glass of wine?”

“Yes, please.” She said, giving him a bashful look.

Rumald quickened his step, pulling ahead of her to go into his kitchen, and grabbed the wine glass he had gotten out for her earlier, and filled the glass until it was halfway. Turning, holding the glass out to her, he was dazed to find she was not with him in the kitchen. He looked round and found her stood in front of the fireplace, of the small sitting area, inspecting the photographs on the mantel. Carrying her glass, Rumald traipsed around the counter into the small sitting area and sidestepped the couch to get to her.

“Are these Neal in these photos?” Belle asked without taking her eyes off the photographs.

“Most of them.” Rumald answered her question, holding the glass of wine out to her, and pointed to a picture on the end of the mantle. “That’s me.”

Intrigued, she smiled brushing herself against him as she passed him to get a closer look, taking the glass of wine he offered. Rumald inclined himself into her, smelling the jasmine and vanilla he had smelt on Saturday. Belle plucked the photograph off the mantle, studying the picture of him.

“When was this?” She inquired, twisting to see him over her shoulder. “You look about ten?”

Rumald breathed in the scent of her again and angled himself to nose over her shoulder, seeing his younger self stood in front of a wall, wearing a brand new tail suit his aunts had bought him. They had skimped and saved every penny, wanting to reward his good behaviour with a brand new suit. Replacing the second hand suit, someone had kindly given Rumald, when he was ten. By the time, he was twelve, which was when the photo was taken, his second hand suit hardly fitted him. His ankles were always on show, even after the aunts had let the pant legs down.

“I was twelve.” Remembering his aunts, he smiled at their memory as he answered Belle’s question.

“Very smart.” Belle said to him, smiling, holding the photograph up to him, and returned it to mantel.

“Anyway, I better serve dinner before it gets too cold.” He remarked as he backed away from her, gesturing over his shoulder to the kitchen.

Dashing back into the kitchen, Rumald used a pair of tongs to serve the steaks onto the plates and drizzled a small amount of the juices from the tray, over the steaks and the potatoes. He picked up both the plates and waltzed off into the dining room, and set them down at the place settings, either side of the head of the table. Rumald picked up the box of matches, he had left on the table earlier, and carefully lit the candles on the table. Blowing out the match, he stood back to take in the table and smiled. ‘ _Perfect.’_ , he commented in his head and walked back into the kitchen, to collect the bottle of wine and his own glass from the kitchen island.

“Belle,” He called to her, startling her from her examination of the pictures, hung on the wall by the breakfast table. “Dinner’s served.”

“Okay.” She smiled, gliding back through the small sitting area to join in the kitchen.

Gesturing for her to go in with his hand holding his glass of wine, Rumald followed her through into the dimly lit dining room, the main light in the room came from the candles on the table. She had stopped in front of him, her gaze moved over the table as Rumald squeezed by her. Looking at her face and checking the room, Rumald was baffled why she had suddenly stopped.

“You okay?” Rumald asked her, worried he had done something wrong.

“Yes.” Belle responded almost immediately to his question, blinking her eyes like she had been woken from a daydream. “It’s… It’s just so nice. You’ve gone to a lot of effort.”

“What? This?” He motioned to the table and the candles before putting the wine bottle and his glass down onto the table. “It’s like this, every night. Can’t have dinner in here without candlelight. The lights don’t work.”

Belle looked stunned, gazing up at the small chandelier above the dining table. “Really?”

Rumald smirked, pulling a chair out from the table for her and gestured with his hand at it. “Only joking.”

Letting out a small laugh, she held a hand over her chest and rolled her eyes at him, as she moved to sit down onto the chair. “I was about to say, the infamous Mr Gold, doesn’t have lights that work in his own dining room? How scandalous!”

“I’m sure, Storybrooke’s rumour mill would eat it up, regardless if it was true or not.” Rumald commented, taking his place opposite her at the dining table.

“I’m a little surprised, I haven’t heard any rumours about us.” Belle imparted to him, picking up the napkin from the underneath her knife and fork, laying it down onto her lap.

Rumald adjusted his napkin on his lap, asking her. “Would it bother you?”

“No, not at all.” She answered him immediately, triggering him to look up from his lap to her. “It’s just idle gossip.”

Gingerly touching the handle of his knife on the table, he posed something to her. “If there were rumours about us, they wouldn’t be kind. They’d probably insinuate, I’d forced you into a deal or had something over you.”

Belle drank some of her wine and said, putting her glass down onto the table. “Let them talk. I know the truth.”

Reflectively, Rumald repeatedly rubbing his thumb over his fingertips, observing her across the table, while she cut a piece from her steak. He doubted she had ever experienced the vicious bite of the grapevine. She was the girl that everyone liked, the one they relied on but was always the last to be picked to be on their team. A nobody in the crowd, but someone important when they wanted something. Rumald had been that naïve once, willing to help others and do the right thing, striving not be painted in the same brush as his father. However, the rumours had always spread about him, no matter how hard he tried to prove them wrong. Being stabbed repeatedly in the back had only hardened Rumald to it. Leaning a vital lesson, which Belle had yet to learn.

“This is delicious.” She said, beaming a smile across the table at him, with her eyebrows raised up forehead.

“I’m glad you like it.” Rumald flexed his lips into a smile as he claimed his glass from the table.

Belle motioned to his plate with the knife in her hand. “Everything alright? You haven’t touched yours yet.”

“I’m just savouring the view.” He remarked before sipping from his wine glass.

She rolled her eyes at him and fed herself another piece of her steak and her potatoes, but Rumald could see, even by the candlelight, the blush creeping up her neck. As he set his glass down onto the table, Rumald picked up his fork and began to eat, watching her with hooded eyes. Belle glimpsed up and met his gaze. A smirk grew on Rumald’s face, as Belle’s blush bloomed from her neck onto her cheeks.

With a slight smirk to his features, Rumald poured himself some more wine as he said to Belle. “I was thinking about something you said the other day.”

“What was that?” Belle asked him after sipping her wine.

“That I hardly know you.” He supplied her with an answered and ate a piece of steak from his fork.

“You don’t.” She let out a nervous chuckle. “We’ve never really shared anything personal with one another.”

Rumald laid his knife on his plate and picked up his glass, and said to her. “Ask me something then. What would you like to know about me?”

Her brow pressed down over her eyes in thought, while she slipped her fork into her mouth and slowly slid the talons out of her mouth, pondering what she could ask him. He drank from his glass and placed it down on the table, playing with the stem of the glass, twirling it back and forth.

Belle squinted her eyes at him, pushing her next bite of food onto her fork, as she asked him. “When did you move to America?”

In thought, his gaze went up to the ceiling and went back to meet her gaze as he answered her. “Neal had just turned two, so it would have been the summer of ninety-four.”

“To Storybrooke?” She asked, leaning forward, yearning to learn more.

“No, we lived in New York for about a year, then I gained some contacts in Boston and one of them put me onto dealer at Cousins Island.” Rumald chuckled as he remembered. “I got lost on the way and ended up here.”

“And never left?” Belle offered with a small chuckle of her own.

“Something like that.” He smiled.

Shifting forward in her seat, she cut a piece from her steak as she shared with Rumald. “We moved here after my mum died. I was about ten, I think.”

“Then you moved around a bit.” Rumald supplied, sliding some food onto his fork.

Her brow knitted together. “Yeah, we did… Until we moved to Michigan. We lived there for a few years.”

Rumald swallowed his mouth of food and claimed his glass from the table, and asked, wanting her to continue her story. “And from there, you went, where?”

Even though, he knew exactly what she was going to say, Rumald listened to her, genuinely interested to hear it from her. To see the different expressions on her face, as she remembered a small detail, he did not know. Belle went on to tell him about her time at University and had branched into telling him, how she had met Gaston. It was not a story, he wanted to know, but it was part of her story and he wanted to know more about her. The finer details that Dove could not find out for him.

“I didn’t feel like I had a choice,” Belle rolled her eyes at the memory. “The University needed Gaston’s grades to improve and I had been picked by my Professor to do it.” She laughed. “I don’t think Gaston, even knew where the library was, until I took him.”

Rumald laid his cutlery down onto his plate and sat back into his chair, posing a question to her. “Does he know where Storybrooke’s library is?”

She giggled. “Probably not. I don’t think…” She squinted her eyes in thought and said. “No, I don’t think he’s ever come to see me there.”

Propping his elbow onto the edge of the table, he held his head in his hand, his thumb under his chin, as he tried to reason, what she had ever seen in Gaston in the first place. Course, Gaston was handsome, had the physique many women appreciated and could probably charm his way into a lot women’s beds. But Belle…? His Belle…? His gaze lowered to this empty plate, surmising that even Belle must have fallen for Gaston’s charm, just like all the other women he had bedded.

“I don’t think anyone, has ever cooked me something as delicious as that.” Belle declared, laying her knife and fork onto her plate.

Standing up, Rumald collected his plate and took a few steps around the head of the table to collect Belle’s, telling her. “Don’t tell Granny that, or when she sees me next, she’ll beat me with a rolling pin.”

“I might enjoy that.” She commented to him and drank from her glass of wine, a sultry look in her eyes.

“Would you like desert?” He asked with half a smile.

“What is it?” She asked leaning forward, folding an arm onto the table in front of her, and placed her glass down onto the table.

Rumald stacked their plates as he said. “Chocolate fudge cake.”

Belle eyes lit up at the mention of chocolate fudge cake. “Oh, my god! I love chocolate fudge cake!”

“As much as you love pecan pie?” He inquired with his smile broadening at her glee.

She pouted her lips in thought. “Hmm…. Not sure. Pecan pie does have a special place in my heart. But…” Belle bit her lower lip at the thought and said. “Chocolate fudge cake is devilishly, mouth-wateringly yummy.”

“Shall I take it that you want desert?” He asked rhetorically, already heading from the dining room into the kitchen.

“I’d love some!” She called after him, making him shake his head as he placed their plates into the sink for later.

Opening the fridge, Rumald retrieved the chocolate fudge cake, he had prepared the night before, and put it down onto the kitchen island, knocking the fridge door closed with his shoulder. He opened a cabinet and took out a tea plate from the pile of plates, and closed the cabinet to turn back to the kitchen island. Rumald pulled a knife from the knife block on the island and steadily sliced down into the cake. A quarter turn of the plate and he made another incision into the cake, cutting a slice from the cake. Carefully, he used the knife to lift the slice from the cake and laid it onto its side, onto the plate he had retrieved.

“Do you want cream or ice cream with it?” He shouted through to her, while he returned the cake to the fridge and tossed the knife into the sink.

“Cream.” Belle yelled back.

Rumald opened the fridge again, asking her. “Normal or squirty?”

“Normal.” She said with a chuckle.

He selected the carton of cream from the door of the fridge and held the door with his leg, angling himself to carefully pour the cream over her cake. Happy, he had not put too much or not too little, Rumald returned the carton, closed the fridge door and grabbed her spoon before taking it through into the dining room. In an exaggerated movement, Rumald put her desert down on her place setting and flicked the spoon out to her, bowing his head to her.

She laughed, taking the spoon from him. “Thank you, kind sir.”

“My pleasure, madam.” He further bowed to her as he backed away, causing her to laugh again at him.

Belle had delved her spoon into her slice, when she noticed Rumald had sat down and was pouring the rest of the wine into his glass. “Are you not having desert?”

“I’m not into deserts.” He said putting the empty bottle to one side. “Would you like some more wine?”

“I’m fine, thank you.” She did not look happy, that she was only one having desert, as she responded to his question.

Her grievance was soon forgotten, when she took the first spoonful of Rumald’s desert into her mouth and moaned, closing her eyes. Rumald lifted his eyebrows, grinning at her response, as she quickly cut another spoonful from the slice and put it into her mouth, moaning all over again.

“This is scrumptious!” Belle declared to him. “Grannies out done herself.”

“Excuse me,” Rumald held his hand over his chest, hurt by her mistake. “But Grannie had nothing to do with that.”

“What?” She asked holding a spoonful of cake up to her mouth.

“I made that cake yesterday.” He pointed to the slice of cake in front of her.

She looked between the spoonful of cake and Rumald. “You did?”

“Why does it surprise you, that I can cook?” Rumald threw his question at her, but did not give her time to answer as he went on to say. “I’ll have you know, that my aunts taught me to cook and to bake. They also taught me how to clean, iron, hoover and, if I feel like it, I can sew too.” He shook his head at her, claiming his glass from the table as he added. “I didn’t come from money, Belle.”

Belle lowered her spoon back down onto her plate, telling him. “I’m sorry, it’s just... I don’t know, I just wouldn’t have thought you would.” She gestured to herself, as she said. “I mean, I don’t even know how to bake and my cooking skills are mediocre.”

He raised his glass to his lips as he said. “There you go, don’t marry him and I’ll teach you how to cook.”

“Oh, that’s definitely a good reason to break off my engagement.” She said sarcastically to him.

“It’s not as bad as your reason to marry him.” Rumald remarked after sipping his wine and returned his glass to the table with his gaze on Belle.

She held up her spoonful of cake and nodded her head at it, saying before she put the spoon into her mouth. “This is to die for.”

“You don’t have to die for it.” He said to her before inclining himself forward onto the table, using his fingertips to push his glass further onto the table, and then propositioned her. “I’ll make a deal with you. I’ll spend the rest of my life, making you pecan pie and chocolate fudge cake, and whatever cake or pie, or desert you want, as long as you don’t marry him.”

“That’s ridiculous.” Belle told him, while scooping some cake and cream onto her spoon.

“And the deal you have with Gaston’s parents, isn’t?” He posed to her.

“Can we talk about something else?” She asked in a hard tone, but it sounded more like a plead to Rumald.

He sat back into his chair. “What would you like to discuss, sweetheart?”

She waved a spoonful of cake at him. “I thought, you said, you were going to New York this weekend.”

“I did say, that I was going to New York this weekend.” Rumald nodded his head in agreement with her.

“And now you’re not going.” Belle alleged, still holding her spoon up, ready to put the spoon into her mouth.

Rumald shifted uncomfortably on his chair. “No, I’m not.”

“You weren’t ever going, were you?” She insisted, slowly lowering her spoon to her plate.

“No.” He answered her, even though he did not want to.

“Thank you for being honest.” She said as she folded her arms onto the edge of the table. “Though, I wish you hadn’t lied to me in the first place.”

Rumald frowned across the table at her. “Really, dearie?” He launched forward with his anger with her, bubbling to the surface. “With hindsight, you can’t understand, why I lied to you?”

Belle directed her gaze to her right and let out a loud breath, before she said, turning her gaze back to him. “Yes, I can.”

“Thank you.” He said, tossing his right hand into the air.

“But it doesn’t mean, I think you had the right to lie to me, but I do understand.” Belle explained her answer and said. “I hate people lying to me. I’ve heard enough lies from my father to last me a lifetime.”

“That’s rich.” He commented, with an evil chuckle, without thinking about it.

“What is?” She asked, looking confused at him.

Rumald shook his head at her. “Nothing.”

“No, what did you mean? That’s rich?” She pushed him for an explanation.

“Are you done with that?” He gestured to her desert plate, trying to change the subject.

“No, I’m not done with it.” Belle sounded annoyed with him as she put her arm around her plate, protecting it from him.

Motioning over his shoulder with his thumb, Rumald proposed. “There’s more cake, if you like? Or I could get you some more cream?”

“What did you mean, that’s rich?” She asked him, not falling for his attempt to distract her.

“I’m sorry. It was an offhand comment.” He apologised to her.

Belle accused him with her finger, pointing at him, across the table. “You meant something by it.”

“Well…” Rumald bought himself time to think and honestly said to her. “Seeing as you’re marrying Gaston to help your father. It just seems ironic, you’re helping out someone, who by your account, has lied to you most of your life. Why he deserves your love and loyalty, after what he’s done, astounds me.”

Carefully surveying her across the table, Rumald hoped, she did not see through his misdirect. He was anxious to spend as much time with her. Though, he planned to reveal Gaston’s affairs to her, if their evening did not end the way Rumald wanted, he knew as soon as he told her, it was prematurely end their evening. And greedily, he wanted to cling to every second, he could spend with her. Even though, Rumald knew deep inside his heart, he would always wish that they could have spent more time together.

“It’s what you do for family. You put their needs above your own.” She disclosed to him, with her gaze fleeting to look through the window onto the back garden.

“Not everyone thinks like that, Belle.” Rumald said to her.

“I know.” The corner of her lips lifted into half a smile, as she picked up her spoon from her plate and fed herself the remaining bite of her cake.

Rumald was drinking from his wine as Belle put her spoon onto her plate, telling him. “That was lovely.”

He smiled at her before offering. “Would you like some coffee? Tea?”

“Some more wine would be nice.” She requested as she wiped at the corners of her mouth with her napkin.

“Do you want any more cake?” Rumald asked with a grin as he pushed back his chair.

Belle smiled at his offer. “No, thank you. I won’t fit into my dress with another bite.”

“And we wouldn’t want that…” He drawled moving to take her desert plate, forcing a smile for her, and marched out of the dining room into the kitchen.

The desert plate clattered on top of the other plates in the sink, while Rumald braced his hands onto the edge of counter, stealing a moment to compose himself. He wanted to scream at her, pleading endlessly with her to not marry him. His hands itched to smash up the plates in his sink, destroy everything on his countertops, throw all the priceless items he had dotted around his house. The surge of his anger was nearly too great for him to contain, as his knuckles turned white with him clenching at the countertop.

Feeling her hand touch his back, Rumald took in a sudden breath, filling his lungs, straightening his back as he tipped his head back to look up at the ceiling. Her hands slid on silk backing of his waistcoat and skimmed across his sides to encircle him, while she rested the side of her face onto the slight arch of his back. Rumald bowed his head to see her hands on his stomach, drawing him closer into her embrace. Tearing his hands from the counter, he secured his hands onto her hands, lacing their fingers together, tightly gripping her hands.

“I’m sorry, I wasn’t thinking.” She said behind him. “I don’t mean to keep flaunting it in your face.”

“Just because, I don’t want you marry him, doesn’t mean, we pretend it’s not happening.” Rumald told her, crooking his head to barely see her over his shoulder.

“But I don’t want to upset you, either.” She commented, pressing her head harder onto his back, squeezing her arms around his waist.

Rumald relaxed his hold on her hands as he said. “I’m afraid, sweetheart, that’s going to happen, no matter what happens. Your adamant, you’re going through with it.”

“I wish I didn’t have to.” Belle said in a low voice.

His anger overpowered him and Rumald snapped her hands from around himself, and whirled round to face her, staggering her with his quick movement. “You don’t have to go through with it!” He grabbed hold of her wrists and held her hands together, keeping her from backing away from him. “You’ve got a choice! I told you, I’d take care of your father’s debts and I have!”

“You did?” She questioned with a flabbergasted look on her face.

Letting go of her hands, Rumald rushed from the kitchen, through the small sitting area to the breakfast table, and snatched up the proof he had printed for her and slung it to the long counter, separating the kitchen from the small sitting area. Hesitant, she ambled from the sink to the long counter as Rumald came to stand on the other side. Belle looked from him to the wad of paper and flicked through the email confirmations Rumald had printed, declaring each account was paid in full. Her pace quickened as she read the same thing on each page.

“I told you, I would do it.” Rumald said, pointing his finger to the wad of papers.

“I didn’t…” She glanced up from the papers to Rumald. “I thought you were just saying it.”

He looked her dead in the eye as he said. “I don’t kid around, when it means I get what I want.”

“But…” Belle squeezed her eyes shut as she said to him. “I’ve given my word to them.” She opened her eyes to look at him, while Rumald clenched his fists onto the counter between them. “And that means something, Rumald. Just like it would, if I had given my word to you.”

Angrily, Rumald swept his arm across the countertop, knocking off little trinkets, a basket of fruit and the wad of papers onto the floor. “You and your goddamn word! You’re so stubborn!”

“Please, calm down.” She tried to touch his clenched hands on the counter, but Rumald yanked them away from her.

“Your word means nothing to Gaston! Do you realise that?” He pointed his question to her, lurching his head forward.

“What do you mean?” Belle wore a confused look.

“What do I mean?” Rumald laughed at her question.

Walking away from the counter and into the foyer, he let out another chuckle, maddened by the whole situation, and went to his overcoat. He pulled the flap of his coat to one side and pulled an envelope from the inside pocket of his overcoat. As Rumald came back into the kitchen, finding Belle had moved to the end of the counter, he waved the envelope in his hand at her and tossed it to land on the counter beside her. Belle frowned at Rumald and then at the envelope before she picked it up from the counter. Unable to standstill, Rumald paced a short distance, back and forth, avidly watching her open the envelope and empty its contents into her hand. The lines on her brow deepened as she studied the first photo in the stack.

Rumald stopped pacing, when he saw the lines on her brow softened and her lips formed into a thin line. A wave of remorse washed over him, instantly forgetting his anger as he saw the obvious look of sadness in her eyes. She flicked to the next photo in the pile, and then the next, and then the next, picking up the pace as she flicked through several more, seeing Gaston with different women in various compromising positions.

“Where did you get these from?” Was her first question as she flicked to another photo.

“It’s doesn’t matter.” Rumald told her, placing his hands onto his hips.

Belle glimpsed at him from the pictures as she moved the front picture to the back. “Why do you have them?”

“Because I was going to tell you about it.” He shared the truth with her, dropping his hands from his hips, feeling foolish under her gaze.

Rumald was startled, when she let out a short laugh and dropped the stack of photos onto the counter, saying to him. “What? Between courses? While we were having a coffee?” She laughed again. “Oh, don’t tell me! You were going to tell me after we’d had sex or something? Is that right?”

“Belle, no. Nothing like that.” He made a poor attempt to plead with her, rubbing a hand over the weary lines on his forehead, feeling he had lost control over their evening.

“This has all been just one big joke.” She threw her hands up in the air, shaking her head and then stopped shaking her head, holding her hand up to point at him. “How long have you known?”

“Belle.” Rumald tried to approach her, but she waggled her finger at him, stopping him as she asked him again. “How long, Rumald?”

His shoulders slumped as he answered her. “Two weeks after I met you.”

“How?” She pushed him for more information, scrunching her brow at him.

“It was the Saturday, when Gaston kneed me.” He informed her, waving a dejected hand through the air, knowing he might as well come clean with her. “I lied. It wasn’t an accident. He kneed me as a warning, because I saw him leaving one of the women from those photos.”

Belle eyed the photos on the counter as she said. “I bet you’ve had a good laugh about this behind my back.”

Rumald firmly shook his head at her, taking a short step towards her, while he said to her. “I’d never laugh at you.”

“Does Regina know?” She asked, whipping her gaze from the photos to Rumald, freezing to where he stood with the hurt in her eyes.

“No, course not!” Rumald shook his head again. “I haven’t told anyone, apart from Dove and he’s not going to tell anyone. I promise.” He assured her, taking another step to close the gap between them.

As he reached out his arm to touch her arm, Belle snatched her arm out of his reach and jumped a step back, shouting at him. “Why didn’t you tell me? You had no right to keep this from me!”

“And you would have hated me for telling you!” He insisted, trying and failing to reach for her as she pulled her arm out of his reach again.

“You don’t know that!” She scolded him.

“Okay, I don’t.” Rumald held up his hands to her, surrendering himself to her mercy. “I was a coward.”

Belle shook her head dismissively at him. “I thought you were different. I thought you weren’t like them, like Gaston and my father.”

“I’m nothing like them.” He growled, insulted by her accusation. “What the hell do you think I’ve been trying to do this week? None of this has been for my own benefit. I didn’t pay off your father’s debts for me. I did it, so you didn’t feel you had to go through with it and save you from making a big mistake.”

“You lied to me!” She cried at him and in one quick movement, grabbed the photos from the counter to throw into Rumald’s face.

He batted them away as Belle stormed by him, heading to the foyer, and called after her. “At least, I’m not lying to myself!”

“What?!” She exclaimed, swinging round to face him in the archway to the foyer.

“You! You’re the biggest liar of all of us!” Rumald turned and indicted her by flinging his hand in her direction.

“What the hell does that mean?” Belle demanded with her hands on her hips.

Rumald let out a tired breath before he answered her question. “You go on about your word, as though its sacred. When realistically, even though I’ve given you a way out, you’re still hiding behind your honourable word.” He waved his hand dramatically through the air and then aimed his finger at her, as he said. “You’re just scared.”

Her face screwed up at his allegation. “Scared of what?”

“Scared to go after what you want.” He held his fists up into the air in front of him and dropped them to his sides, as he continued. “You’re as much of a coward, as I am. Except, I’ve been willing to go after what I want, while you’re hiding behind some misplaced loyalty to your father. Who, to be honest, needs a session with Doctor Hopper, because he must be mad to let you go through with this.”

“I’m not a coward.” She told him forcefully.

“Really, sweetheart? You’re going to continue lying to yourself?” Rumald asked her, folding his arms across his chest.

Belle stomped up to him and poked her finger into his chest. “My father is all I’ve got and he means more to me, than anyone else. At least, if I marry Gaston, he’ll be set for life. He’ll never have to worry about money. And I did that! Me! I’m doing this for him!”

“Well, go then!” His voice boomed through the house as he flung his hand at the front door. “Go and make the biggest mistake of your life!”

“Don’t you worry, I will.” She fumed at him before twirling round, flicking her hair up with the force, and marched out of his house, slamming the front door closed.

Bracing his hands onto his hips, Rumald’s chest heaved desperately for breath, while he stared at the front door. A wishful thought crossed his mind, hoping she would come back through his front door. His head slowly shook from side to side at how their evening had ended. He never wanted it to be like that. He wanted to sit her down and talk her through it, accepting her criticisms, apologising profusely for his mistakes and hope she forgave him. However, looking at his front door, he suspected Belle would never forgive him now and his worst fear was going to come true. She would marry Gaston, because of her stupid honourable word and to spite him. Closing his eyes at his thoughts, Rumald slumped his head forward and held a hand to his forehead, feeling the tears begin to well in his eyes.


	35. Chapter 35

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It's the day of Belle's wedding.

Dejectedly, Rumald rolled from his right side onto his left side, and cracked open his eyes, peeping at the clock on his bedside table. He groaned, as he closed his eyes and burrowed his face into his pillow. Facing today, was going to be one of the hardest things, Rumald had ever had to do. It was tempting to pull the covers over his head and hide in his bed, for the rest of the day, lazing his way through into Monday morning. But instead, Rumald threw back the covers and sat up onto the edge of his bed, placing his feet onto the cool wooden floor. Combing his fingers through his hair, he spied his gaze around the room, not looking for anything in particular, and stopped on the beam of sunlight, pouring in through the gap in his curtains, piercing the darkness of his room.

Closing his eyes and bowing his head, Rumald fed his fingers into his hair and held his head, struggling to find the energy to deal with today. He had found it hard to get through Saturday, without thinking about Belle and their fight. So many times, he had felt the urge to find her and apologise, to beg her to not go through with the wedding. He had restrained himself from doing it, allowing his cowardice to convince him that she needed time.

Rumald pushed himself up from the bed, and ambled around the foot of his bed to go into his bathroom. Upon entering, he partly opened the glass door, for the shower, and turned the water on to full. Shaking the water from his hand, Rumald closed the door and shuffled the few steps to the sink, and turned on the cold tap as he picked up his toothbrush. He eyed his appearance in the mirror, while he squeezed a dollop of toothpaste onto his toothbrush, and then began to brush his teeth, resting a hand on the edge of the sink. In his face, Rumald could clearly see the misery, he was feeling, and knew from now on, this would be the face that would greet him every morning.

When Rumald emerged from his bathroom, showered and clean shaven, he rubbed the remnants of his aftershave onto his smooth face, and down the nape of his neck. Angling his head to see the clock, on his bedside, as he crossed his room to his chest of draws, he saw the wedding would start in an hour and half. It had been late last night, slouched in front of the television, when Rumald had decided, he was going to attend their wedding. He had read about it, a double page spread, in the Storybrooke Daily Mirror, while he had been having his breakfast. The fantasy of standing up and objecting, was at the forefront of his mind, but… Rumald was not attending with the purpose of doing that. He wanted to see her, one more time, as Belle French, and then he was going to let her go, because that was what you did, when you loved someone.

Right…?

Sat on the armchair in his room, Rumald fed his right foot into his sock, working his sock around the heel of his foot and up his ankle. He dropped his foot, and readied his sock to put onto his left foot, feeling apprehensive, about seeing her at the church. There was no doubt, in his mind, that she was going to be a beautiful bride. It was probably, going to take every fibre of his being, to stop himself from standing up and halting the ceremony. He suspected, if he failed to stop himself, Belle would cease to love him and would always hate him. Rumald rubbed a hand over his mouth, unable to bear the thought of her hating him.

Dressed in only his underwear and socks, he stood in front of his open wardrobe, picking out a black suit, a white shirt and a black tie from the tie rail, on the inside of his wardrobe door. With his elbow, Rumald knocked the door closed and turned to lay his clothes, on the foot of the bed. Starting with his shirt, he unbuttoned the collar of the shirt, tossed the hanger back onto the bed, and fed his arms into the sleeves of his crisp white shirt. Rumald pulled the flaps of his shirt together and buttoned them, while he wandered over to his chest of draws, reaching it as he finished his buttons, and secured his sleeves with a set of cufflinks, from the velvet display, on the top of his chest of draws. Returning back to the bed, he slid his pants off the hanger of his suit, shook them out, and put them on, tucking in the tails of his shirt.

Rumald took in a deep breath and let it out, as he claimed his black tie from the bed and went over to the mirror, on the front of the wardrobe, whilst he turned up the collar of his shirt. Draping his tie around the collar of his shirt, he quickly lashed his tie around itself, fed the large end through the loops, and pulled his tie through on itself, creating the perfect knot in his tie. He adjusted the knot and tightened his tie, nestling the knot over the top button of his shirt. Turning down his collar, Rumald moved his head from side to side, inspecting his handiwork, and did one last tweak of his tie. While looking at himself in the mirror, Rumald met the gaze of his reflection, very aware of what his reflection thought of him, seeing the disappointment in his eyes. He stood there, for a few more seconds, regarding his reflection and his appearance, inwardly hating himself, before he turned away from the mirror.

He strolled away from the mirror, going to the chest of draws, and collected his phone, money clip and wallet, and pocketed each item. Grabbing his suit jacket from the bed and collecting his watch from the bedside, Rumald traipsed out of his bedroom and went downstairs, putting on his watch as he descended the stairs. Waltzing into his kitchen, he laid his suit jacket over the couch, in the small sitting area, while he headed to main kitchen area. He opened the fridge, grabbed a carton of orange juice, and let the fridge door close itself, while he grabbed a glass from the draining board. Filling his glass as he went back to the fridge, Rumald put his glass down on the kitchen island before he opened the fridge again, returning the carton of orange.

Froze to the spot in front of the fridge, Rumald gazed into the fridge, at the chocolate fudge cake, he had made for their dinner on Friday. He should have thrown it out the day before, but some stupid sentimental reason, kept him from dumping, the nearly complete cake into the trash. His hand slipped down the edge of the fridge door, as Rumald placed his left hand on his chest, feeling his heart trying to rip itself from his chest.

Shaking his head, Rumald closed the fridge door and collected his juice to drink from it, as he checked the time on his wrist. There was forty minutes till the service. Downing the rest of his juice, Rumald looked down at his shirt, checking for wet spots, as he left his glass on the counter and went to the small sitting area, and collected his suit jacket. He put it on, checking himself in the mirror, situated in the foyer. Smoothing his hands down the front of his jacket, Rumald let out a noisy breath and crossed the foyer to where his overcoat hung, and removed his keys from a pocket. He groaned, as he bent over to put on his shoes, and then kneeled to tie his shoelaces.

The sun was shining brightly, as Rumald stepped out of his house and closed the door behind him. He descended the porch’s steps, and crossed the front lawn to his driveway, using the stepping stones, he had planted into the grass, and climbed into his car. The Cadillac roared instantly to life, when he turned the key in the ignition, and settled down to a contented purr, as Rumald sat in the driver’s seat.

Idly playing with his silver ring on his right ring finger, Rumald wondered, whether he should go to the church or not. Though he knew, she was determined to marry Gaston. Rumald could not help, but hope, that she would make the right decision. That she may even choose him after all. Or at least, save herself, from making a huge mistake.

Rumald put the car into reverse and backed out of the drive, before he could change his mind, and drove off into town. The church was a twenty-minute drive from Rumald’s house, situated on the other side of town, and as Rumald arrived, he could see several other people had gotten there before him. The parking lot of the church was packed with cars, with a few of them, half parked onto the grass. There was no kerbside left in front of the church, or on the opposite side of the street. Rumald slowly drove by, trying to spot a space, that he could swing the Cadillac into, but there was nothing close to the church available. He carried on, along the street, and spotted a space, which he swiftly took, swinging his Cadillac hard into the space.

As he climbed out of his car, Rumald closed the flaps of his suit jacket and buttoned the top button of his suit jacket, and stood beside his car. There were lots of people, couples and groups, walking up the street in the direction of the church. Many of their faces he recognised, the majority of them were tenants. He shut his car door, meeting the gaze of anyone, who dared to look at him. Nervously touching his hair, his face, his tie, Rumald half-heartedly started the long, short walk to the church, merging with the flow of people.

Outside the church, the grounds were littered with groups of people, happily chatting, laughing and exchanging pleasantries with one another. Rumald rubbed his hands together, strolling the path from the sidewalk to the church doors, eyeing the different groups, for anyone he may know or would be willing to talk to him. Not seeing anyone, he climbed the short stairs and went into the church, which was packed with even more people. He stopped inside the entryway, combing his gaze over the sea of heads, hoping there might be someone there. Uncertain, Rumald played with his ring, starting to think this was bad idea, as he swept his gaze back across the church.

Breathing out heavily, he turned to leave, chalking it up to a bad decision, and took a couple of steps, when someone caught his arm. “Rumald.”

He snapped his head round, looking over his shoulder, and saw Regina smiling at him. “Regina.”

“I thought you were in New York.” She pulled herself closer to him, wary of the people squeezing by them and into the church

“Yeah… It was cancelled.” Rumald lied to her, gazing passed her into the church.

Regina hooked her arm around his and led him further into the church, telling him. “Well, I’m glad you’re here. I don’t want to sit on my own.”

“To be honest, Regina, I was just leaving.” He pointed back to the doorway, while he followed her lead.

She tugged him into a pew, at the back of the church, and they sat down, as Regina said. “You’re not leaving me here on my own, Rumald.”

Rumald waved his hand at the other occupants of the church, saying to her. “Regina, there’s plenty of people here that you know.”

“Yeah, but most of them are Mary-Margaret’s do-gooder friends.” Regina explained, turning her nose up at them.

“Your niece is over there.” Rumald leaned into her, pointing to Emma, who was stood beside her mother, looking bored with the conversation.

“Talking of my niece,” Regina turned partly to face Rumald. “I hear your son and Emma have a date on Wednesday night.”

“Have they?” He asked with a smile, happy for his son. “Good for him.”

Regina inclined her face closer to him. “Mary-Margaret’s not too pleased about it.”

“I don’t think Mary-Margaret’s ever pleased, about anything, if it’s related to me.” Rumald remarked to Regina, playing with his silver ring, with his hands held down between his knees.

“Hey Aunt Regina!” Boomed a young voice, startling both of them, into craning their necks to see Henry, poking his head over the back of their pew. “Mr Gold.”

“Henry!” Regina held her hand over her chest. “You scared me!”

“Sorry.” Henry scuttled to the end of their pew, smiled his way passed Rumald knee’s, and inserted himself, into the space, between Rumald and Regina on the pew. “You look very smart, Mr Gold.”

Rumald glanced down at his attire and then at Henry. “Don’t I normally looks smart?”

Henry titled his head back to look up at Rumald. “Yes, but you look different today.”

“You are looking very sharp today.” Regina agreed with her great-nephew.

“Shouldn’t you be with your mother?” Rumald inquired, motioning to Emma, on the other side of the church.

Henry hooked his arm around Regina’s, as he replied to Rumald’s question, looking up at Regina. “I’d rather sit with Regina.”

“I’ve never noticed…” Regina looked from Henry to Rumald, and back again. “That before…”

“What?” Rumald turned his head to look at her, raising an eyebrow at her, while Henry gazed up at Regina.

“You… You both have the same eyes.” Regina informed them, causing them both to look at each other.

Henry pulled a face at Rumald and then turned to Regina. “I don’t have the same eyes as Mr Gold.”

Regina split her gaze between them, comparing their eyes, as she said. “They’re very similar.”

“Henry!” Someone called.

The three of them, looked to the other end of their pew, and saw Emma motioning for Henry to come to her. He excused himself, hopping off the pew, and scrambled along the pew, excusing his way passed people’s knees and feet. Rumald wore a frown, crossed with a raised eyebrow, as he watched Henry greet his mother and be dragged to their pew, where the rest of Henry’s family were sitting.

“So, strange...” Regina commented, tugging at the end of her pencil skirt.

Rumald remained silent, observing Emma and Henry taking a seat on their pew, while Emma scolded the young boy for running off. Even with the din of the chatter, he could hear Henry talking back to his mother, protesting he was with Regina. Emma’s hair flicked round, as she glanced over to Rumald and Regina, and then back to her son, sat beside her.

Turning his gaze away from them, Rumald looked down at the ring on his finger, twisting it back and forth, while he pondered Regina’s comment. He had never paid much attention to Henry. The boy was insignificant in Rumald’s world, but now he thought about it, Henry did strike a bit of resemblance to a young Neal. They both had an incorrigible knack of getting themselves into trouble, and their curiosity often ruled over their common sense, while all the while, both were good natured boys. The similarities were uncanny.

“This is all your fault!” Someone raged at the top of their lungs.

Awoken from his thoughts, Rumald looked around the church, joining everyone else, who had heard the accusation, and came to see Gaston, stood in the aisle, glaring down their pew at Rumald. Turning his head, looking to the other end of their pew, Rumald wondered, who Gaston was addressing with his statement.

“I’m talking to you!” Gaston shouted.

Snapping his gaze back to Gaston, Rumald held a hand to his chest, clarifying Gaston’s declaration. “Me, dearie?”

“Yes, you!” Gaston stabbed his finger, angrily into the air, at Rumald. “Where is she?”

“I’m sorry, but who’re we talking about?” Rumald inquired, though he could have guessed.

“Belle! Where is she?” He lurched forward, his hands grabbing the ends of the pews, stuck at his end of the pew.

Rumald chuckled, as he answered Gaston’s question, with a question of his own. “Why the hell would I know, where your bride-to-be is?”

Gaston launched himself forward, practically jumping into the laps of the people, sat at the other end of the pew, and clambered his way to Rumald. With a smirk, Rumald got up from his seat, ready for a confrontation Gaston. Welcoming it with open arms, he hoped, it would be an adequate punishment, for the scheming and lying he had done. Serving as his penance, for the argument they had on Friday night. This would be the price, he would gladly pay, for letting her leave that night, without trying to stop her.

Stumbling backwards, grabbing the back of the pew in front, Rumald glared down at the pair of hands, pushing on him on his chest. He raised his gaze up to see Regina, and became instantly annoyed with her, for interfering in his business. Rumald swatted at her hands, but she kept a good hold on him, shoving him out from their pew, and into the aisle. 

“Go!” She commanded him, frantically waving her hand to the entrance.

“No, I’m not going anywhere!” Rumald was adamant, prepared for a fight, as Gaston fell down onto his face, tripped by the pew’s occupant’s legs.

Regina clutched at the lapels of his suit jacket, shaking him, while he eyed Gaston over her shoulder, as she told him. “This is not the place and it’s not the time!” She gave him one hard shove, punching her hands into his chest, before she said to him. “If she’s not here, go and find her!”

Scrunching his brow at her, her reasoning slowly dawned on Rumald, and the tensioned eased on his forehead. He looked passed her to Gaston, lying on the floor, between the pews, fighting to free his legs from the people, who he had just climbed over. All Rumald saw, was a poor excuse of a man, flapping his arms about, cursing and shouting. He was not worth it. Regina was right. The time Rumald would waste, fighting with Gaston, he could have been finding Belle.

“Thank you.” Rumald quickly kissed Regina’s cheek, and then ran for the door, hearing an explosion of chatter, following him out of the church’s doors.

It had been years, since Rumald had ran so hard, so fast. His shoes clipped and clopped as he ran, trying to get back to his car, as quick as he could. His heart hammered in his chest, working overtime as he ran, while thrilled that Belle had stood Gaston up. Rumald did not care, if when he found her, she sent him away. The fact, she had not arrived at the church, and Gaston had no clue where she was, was a dream come true for Rumald.

His shoes had hardly any grip, so when he got to his car and tried to stop, he slipped, almost falling over, until he grabbed the door handle of his door. Hurriedly, Rumald yanked open his car door and jumped inside, fighting with himself and his pants, to get his keys out of his pants pocket. In frustration, Rumald let out a short yell, cursing his stupidity, as he managed to free his keys from his pants pocket. Hunched over his steering wheel, Rumald shoved the key in the ignition, and started the Cadillac, snatching the gear select down into drive, before he wheel spun out of the space.

He had no clue, where he was going to look for her, so he headed back into town, planning to stop at Grannies before he went to her house. Racing towards Main Street, Rumald tried to think of some other places, she might have gone. A low growl, emanated from deep inside of Rumald, as he could not think of anywhere, she might have gone.

Throwing the Cadillac around a corner, Rumald drove on the opposite side of the street, taking the straightest route, before he dangerously turned into the parking lot, at the back of Grannies. He stopped the car, mere inches, from the steps to Grannies back door, and jumped out of his car, leaving his door open, hurrying up the steps and into Grannies. The door banged against the wall, and tried to hit Rumald on the rebound, but he rushed through into the main dining area. Everyone stopped talking, when Rumald came pounding into the room, darting his gaze from table to table.

“What the hell do you want?” Grannie asked, from behind the counter.

Rumald snapped his gaze to her, and paused to look her over, startled by how lovely Grannie looked, dressed ready for the wedding. “Belle?”

“She’s not here.” Grannie scowled at him, giving him a glare over the top of her glasses. “Ruby’s out looking for her.”

Rumald sprinted out of the room, back down the corridor, through the back door of Grannies, and down the steps to his car. He slid on the gravel, but used it to his advantage, directing himself to fall into his driver’s seat. Snatching the door close, Rumald was already reversing the car, hooking it round in the parking lot, kicking up the gravel.

Driving round onto Main Street, Rumald took the turning, hardly slowing down, and floored the accelerator to get to the library. He eyed the library, trying to spot any signs of life inside of it, as the Cadillac squealed, as it took a right turn at the intersection. The library was in darkness, and as he went by the parking lot, he did not see her car parked there, either.

Willing his car to go faster, bouncing up and down in his driver’s seat, Rumald pushed his car like a horse jockey, banging the heel of his hand on the steering wheel, encouraging his car to drive faster. He gave no thought to the intersections, and drove straight through them, leaving a car or two in his wake, beeping their horns at him. The Cadillac’s wheels howled, as he whipped the steering wheel, turning hard into their street, keeping his speed, while the rear of the car drifted round the corner. He sat up in his seat, leaning over his steering wheel, spying their house as he approached. Braking hard, slinging his car into their driveway, Rumald barely had the car in park, when he leapt out of his car and raced up to her front door.

Hammering his fist against the door, rattling the door in its frame, he called out to her. “Belle! Belle! It’s me! Please, open up!”

Rumald decided to try the door handle, but it did not open. He beat his fist against the door, jostling the door by the door handle, desperate to get into their house. He kicked, he hit, shouldered, threw his whole body at the door, but to no avail. Breathing heavily, he raised his hand to knock the door again, and tried the door handle again. He stepped back, and down the few steps from the front door, bending himself to see through the windows, hoping to see any sign of life.

“Mr Gold?” A voice called to him.

Rumald spun round to see Deputy Graham, standing on the doorstep of his own house, across the street from Belle’s. “Deputy Graham, have you seen Belle?”

Graham looked confused, taking a step down the path to his house, and held his arm up, hooking his thumb over his shoulder, as he said. “I would’ve thought she’d be at the church by now.”

“Right…” Rumald muttered, panting for breath.

Giving up, he slowly strolled from her front door, back to his car in the driveway, and placed his hand on his car door, as Graham called to him. “I saw her about half an hour ago, leaving in her car, if that helps.”

Snapping his gaze to Graham, Rumald asked him. “Which direction, did she go?”

Graham lifted his arm, gesturing in the direction that led out of town, but also led to Rumald’s house. “She went north, towards the town line.”

“Thank you, Graham!” Rumald shouted, launching himself into his car.

The Cadillac squealed out of Belle’s driveway and into the street. Graham shouted at him, to drive carefully, and Rumald waved a hand to Graham, dismissing the younger man’s advice, and took off to his house. Rumald prayed as he drove, hoping she had gone to his house. His head bobbed up and down, while he drove, impatient to get home. He drove through every stop sign on his way home, and slung his car hard into his own street, desperately searching for her car. There were no cars parked in front of his house, not even the neighbour’s cars.

The front of his house was covered by bushes, so Rumald let himself daydream, that she was stood at the top of his porch’s steps, waiting for him to come home. Her suitcases were sat beside her. Her car was parked perfectly into his driveway. Belle would be eagerly waiting for him, looking either way down the street, hoping every car that drove by was his Cadillac. And when she finally saw his car, Belle would grin from ear to ear, bound her way down the steps of the porch, and launch herself into his arms, clinging to him, while she proclaimed her undying love for him.

Eager, Rumald leant forward, keen to see her on his porch, ready to live out his fantasy, as he drove passed the bushes, blocking the view of his house. He sucked in a breath and held it, while his eyes darted to the porch, to the driveway, to the steps of the porch, to the side of his house, across the road, to his neighbour’s house next door. The Cadillac gradually slowed to a stop, in front of Rumald’s house. He lifted the gear selector into park and turned off his car, and sat there.

She was not there…


	36. Chapter 36

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Rumald's in New York with Jefferson, looking at locations for Jefferson's new shop.

Turning his hand over, Rumald pulled back the sleeve of his shirt, checking the time on his watch, while he waited for Jefferson to finish the tour with the letting agent. They were in New York, viewing the stores Jefferson had found online. He raised his hand to his face, scratching at his newly grown beard, gazing across the large room to where Jefferson and the agent were talking. In the two weeks, they had spent in New York, they had seen over a fifty properties, and Jefferson still could not make his mind up.

Rumald turned away to look out of the window, admiring the Christmas decorations, in the neighbouring shop windows. A small smile, tugged at the corners of his lips, suspecting Belle loved this time of year. He could see her, sat in the middle of his living room, presents stacked around her, scraps of wrapping paper littering the floor, while she cut a new piece of wrapping paper from the roll, ordering him to leave the room, in case he saw his Christmas present. The living room would be perfect picture of Christmas. The Christmas tree would look idyllic, as though, it had been pulled straight out of a magazine. The fireplace would be decorated with their stockings – a stocking for Rumald, for Belle and for Neal, made lovingly by Belle. She would have the whole house decorated in lights and in tinsel, with Christmas ornaments dotted about the house. And Rumald would love it, even if, he normally shied away from Christmas. He would make the effort for her.

His smile lingered, while he saved his daydream for later, and pivoted round to check on Jefferson and the agent, who were now, inspecting a storage closet. Slightly peeved by having to wait, Rumald took out his frustration on his beard, scratching at the sharp bristles on his cheek. He groaned at himself, following the itch in his beard, which he had caused, from the right side of his face to the left, dipping under his chin in his travels. The temptation to shave it off was getting stronger with every itch. A couple of days of laziness had allowed his beard to grow, and now it was here, Rumald had embraced the change, glad to see someone else in the mirror.

He breathed out noisily of his nose, as he clasped his hands behind his back, strolling from the shop windows to where Jefferson and the agent were talking. They noticed him approaching, and angled themselves, to invite him into the conversation.

“How soon could we take the space, if we’re interested?” Jefferson asked, smiling at Rachel, the agent.

“Normally, we like the tenants to move in at the beginning of the month.” Rachel told Jefferson, and then touched Jefferson’s arm, moving closer to him, as she added. “Course, with four weeks until Christmas, we could make an allowance for you to move in sooner.”

Jefferson squinted his eyes in thought. “I’m not sure, we’d be ready in time.”

“We could make it happen, Jefferson.” Rumald interjected, triggering them both to look at him. “There’s going to be a lot of charity balls leading up to Christmas.”

“True.” Jefferson agreed, waving his finger at Rumald.

Rachel smiled at them, saying. “If you’re happy with the space, I can get the paperwork courier to Mr Gold’s hotel,” She fleetingly glanced at Rumald, a small blush to her cheeks. “And could have the keys ready for you… by Wednesday?”

“Let me discuss it with Rumald and we’ll call you with an answer.” Jefferson told her, waving a hand at Rumald as he spoke.

“Not a problem.” Rachel held her hand out to Jefferson, smiling warmly at him. “I look forward to hearing from you.”

“Thank you for showing us around.” Jefferson shook her hand, returning her warm smile.

Rachel took her hand from Jefferson and offered her hand to Rumald, saying to him. “If you have any questions, Mr Gold, I’d be more than happy to answer them for you. Perhaps… Over dinner?”

Rumald shook her offered hand, giving her a hint of his smile. “Thank you, but I’m leaving New York tonight.”

“Well, you’ve got my number, Mr Gold, if you ever change your mind.” She reminded him, shaking his hand, while her smile broadened to show her white teeth, and a blush bloomed on her cheeks.

Taking his hand from her grasp, his brow pressed partly down over his eyes, as he studied her face. Rachel was a very beautiful, young woman, and two months ago, he probably would have been flattered by her interest. Yet, as Rumald looked at her, all he could think about was Belle. Rumald politely smiled at her, as he started to stroll away from her, heading to the entrance of the store. Without looking, Rumald knew Jefferson was hot on his heels, and pulled open the glass door, refusing to look back, and held the door open for his friend. Jefferson came out of the store, looking back to where they had left Rachel.

Rumald worked his way through the flow of people, getting to the kerbside to look for a cab. “I’m cutting it close to catch my flight.”

“You’ve got plenty of time.” Jefferson remarked, lazily following Rumald through the crowd, joining him at the kerb.

“I hate being late.” Rumald commented before throwing his hand up into the air, stepping off the kerb, to hail the cab, he had spotted. “Taxi!”

Jefferson trailed after Rumald, ambling from the kerb to the yellow cab, that had pulled up beside Rumald. “Are you going to call her, when you get back to Storybrooke?”

Rumald opened the back door of the cab, and rolled his eyes at Jefferson, as he climbed into the cab, telling Jefferson. “Jefferson, we’ve talked about this already.”

“Okay. You’ve called her over twenty times already. Doesn’t mean you give up.” Jefferson commented, waiting for Rumald to bounce across the backseat.

Rumald watched Jefferson get into the cab, telling him again. “If she was interested, in talking to me, she would’ve answered my calls or called me back.”

“Park Lane Hotel.” Jefferson instructed the driver, as he shut the door to the cab, and said to Rumald. “Go and see her then.”

Rumald let out a small sigh, before he looked at his friend beside him. “If she doesn’t want to answer my calls, I doubt she wants to see me.”

“You might be surprised and find, she’s waiting for you to come and see her.” Jefferson suggested, twisting his head to the side, to see Rumald.

“I doubt it.” Rumald played with his ring on his finger.

“So, you’re just going do nothing?” Jefferson inquired.

Rumald’s brow was slightly ceased, as he said. “I’m just giving her some time. This is going to be a big adjustment for her.”

“I’ve never thought of you as a coward, Rumald, but you sound very much like one.” Jefferson shook his head at his friend, shifting on the bench seat, to face the front of the car.

Resting his elbow on the armrest of the door, Rumald cupped his chin in his hand, and unconsciously scratched at his beard, while gazing out the window, at the cars they passed. Jefferson was right. He was being a coward. It was the only defence, he had left, that he could use to protect himself.

Rumald closed his eyes, and massaged his fingertips into his forehead, terrified to go back to Storybrooke and bump into Belle. The week, before he had come to New York, he had conducted all of his business from the house, sheltering away from the curious looks and the hot gossip, that was circulating around town. Dove had popped by the house, dropping off the groceries Rumald had ordered and paperwork from the shop, and had informed Rumald, Belle was back in town. When he had heard Dove, say her name, Rumald’s heart had leapt with such force, Rumald had jumped out of his chair, ready to run to her, but had quickly dropped back into his chair. Though, he had wanted to go to her, with every fibre of his being, Rumald had been too scared to face her. Remaining at the house, for the rest of the week, he had snuck out of Storybrooke, early one morning, leaving to meet Jefferson in New York.

As much as he felt miserable and longed for her, Rumald was happy for her. The fact, she had not married Gaston and had broken their agreement, was the only thing, which gave Rumald some solace about the whole situation. The only thing, that was bitter sweet, was the time he had spent with Belle, tasting what could have been. He dropped his hand down from his face, taking in a shuddering breath, as he wished to go back and do things differently.

The cab pulled up in front of the hotel, jerking Rumald from his thoughts, while Jefferson open the door to exit the cab. Rumald slipped his money clip out of his pocket, and handed the drive some money, while he was getting out of the cab, telling the driver to keep the change. Stood outside of the cab, Rumald closed the cab door, with the driver offering his thanks, and walked after Jefferson, who was heading through the entrance into the lobby. Jefferson turned to face Rumald, just inside of the foyer, realising he had left Rumald behind.

“That last place, definitely has the space we’ll need upstairs, for the workshop and showing area.” Jefferson shared his thoughts with Rumald, waving the brochure around in his hand.

“You said that, about the last ten places, we viewed.” Rumald remarked, strolling by Jefferson, and headed across the foyer to the reception desk.

Jefferson rolled his eyes, chasing after Rumald. “I told you to just pick one.”

“You’re the one, who’s going to be using the space, not me.” Rumald told him, glimpsing at his friend, over his shoulder.

“But they’re all really good…” Jefferson whined. “And really expensive.”

They were a few feet from the reception desk, when Rumald stopped, and grabbed Jefferson, pulling him to a stop with him, telling him. “Don’t worry about the money. I’ve got it covered. Just concentrate on picking out, which one you want.”

“This one then!” Jefferson held the brochure up to Rumald.

“The one, we just viewed?” Rumald questioned, flicking his eyes to the brochure in Jefferson’s hand.

“Why not?” Jefferson questioned flippantly.

Rumald grinned at Jefferson, amused by his friend. “I’ll contact Rachel tomorrow.”

“Okay, well, I’ll catch up with you tomorrow.” Jefferson said, backing away from Rumald, pointing to the elevators behind him. “I’m going to freshen up and take Grace out for dinner.”

“I’ll talk to you tomorrow.” Rumald waved at Jefferson, while turning, and took the few steps to the reception desk.

Three hours later, Rumald crossed the town line, loosening his tie from around his neck, as he watched the ‘Welcome to Storybrooke’ sign pass by his car. He drove to the outskirts of town before he turned off the main road, skirting around the edge of town, saving himself some time, and turned into his street. It was dark, but the street was brightly lit, by all the Christmas decorations, people had hung on the outside of their houses. Rumald let his gaze drift over the different displays, overwhelmed by the amount of lights and inflatable Santa’s he saw.

Shaking his head in disbelief, Rumald swung his Cadillac into his drive, pulling his car in behind Neal’s, parked at the top of the drive. He let out a tired sigh, as he turned off his car and opened his car door, stepping out from the warmth of his car, into the cold evening. Rumald flicked the door shut behind him, and sauntered to the rear of his car, where he opened the trunk and retrieved his suitcase. Rolling his suitcase behind him, along the sidewalk to the path, that led to the front porch, Rumald’s eye was caught by the yellow Beetle, parked at the kerb, in front of his house. He stopped to look at it, with a slight frown, and then gazed up at the house. Pouting his lips in thought, Rumald started up the path to the porch, glimpsing over his shoulder at the yellow Beetle. 

The front door opened, when Rumald tried the door handle, and he shuffled through the doorway, peering around the edge of the door. As he closed the front door, Rumald wheeled his suitcase to one side of the door, leaning to look through into the living room, finding Neal and Emma, lounging on the couch together, Neal’s arm around her shoulders, while Henry sat in the middle of the floor, watching a film they had on the television. Watching them, while he unwrapped his scarf, from around his neck, he met Neal’s gaze, when his son turned his head to the sound of the front door closing.

“Dad!” Neal greeted, smiling at his father. “Good timing. Pizza should be here any minute.”

Alarmed, Emma sat up from leaning against Neal, and looked pass Neal to Rumald, while Henry glimpsed from the television to Rumald, waved at him, before returning his attention to their film. While Rumald shrugged off his overcoat, he met Emma’s gaze, curious by her reaction to him coming home. He had always liked Emma. She spoke her mind and tried to be fair with everyone, but she also had a small intolerance for stupid, which was handy, when Rumald was dealing with tenants and Emma was on call.

Neal got up from the couch, saying to Emma. “Do you want another beer?”

“Sure.” Emma told him, titling her head back to look up at him, forcing a small smile for him.

“Dad?” Neal asked, as he turned to walk out of the living room, joining Rumald in the foyer. 

“Please.” He replied to his son with a smile, while his gaze was on Emma, who gingerly sat back into the couch, watching him from the corner of her eye.

Neal shuffled off into the kitchen, as Rumald hung his overcoat on a coat hook, keeping a watchful eye on their guests. He had not known, Emma and Henry, would be joining them. When Neal had suggested, they had dinner together, Rumald had thought it would be their usual, quiet night at the house, pizza and beer, watching whatever Neal wanted to watch. Instead, it looked as though, Rumald was going to have his share his quality time with his son, with Emma and Henry. As he unwrapped his scarf, from around his neck, and slung it over the coat hook with his overcoat, Rumald knew, he had only himself to blame. He had encouraged his son to go after Emma, after all.

“What’s with the beard?” Neal asked, approaching Rumald, holding out a bottle of beer to his dad.

“I needed a change.” Rumald stated, as he took the offered beer from Neal.

Neal titled his head to the side, eyeing his father’s beard, and said. “I don’t think I’ve ever seen you with a beard before.”

“Probably not. I’ve always shaved it off after a couple of days.” Rumald told his son, and nodded his head to the living room. “I thought it was just you and me tonight?”

Glancing to the living room, Neal turned back to his father, beaming a smile Rumald found hard to say no to. “I didn’t think you’d mind.”

“I don’t mind.” Rumald fibbed, glimpsing at Emma and Henry, not sure what to say to his son. “I just…” He looked at his son. “Nothing. It’s fine.” Rumald smiled, as he patted his hand on Neal’s shoulder. “What film are we watching?”

“Eragon.” Neal informed his father, starting towards the living room, and pointed his finger at Henry. “Henry chose it.”

Hearing his name mentioned, Henry perked up, looking to each of them with an innocent smile. Neal dropped onto the couch beside Emma, handing her one of the bottle of beers he carried, while he slid his arm around Emma’s shoulders, drawing her closer into his side. Drinking from his beer, Rumald spied at the two on the couch, as he came into the living room, stepping passed their feet and around Henry, taking the furthest armchair for himself. He sat down, momentarily moving his gaze to Henry, who was grinning up at Rumald, from where he sat on the rug. Rumald’s brow twitched, at the attention Henry was giving him, unable to help noticing, more similarities that reminded Rumald of Neal.

“Neal said, you were in New York.” Henry stated to Rumald.

“Yes, I was.” Rumald scrutinised, the young man in front of him, as he sat back into the armchair.

Keeping his legs folded, Henry wriggled closer to Rumald, hungry for more knowledge. “I’ve never been to New York. What’s it like?”

“Henry, Mr Gold is probably tired.” Emma told Henry, offering a sympathetic smile to Rumald, when he looked over to her.

“It’s fine.” Rumald waved off her concerned and answered Henry’s question. “It’s very different to Storybrooke. Busy and noisy.”

“I want to see New York’s public library.” Henry imparted to him, his eagerness glistened in his eyes as he spoke to Rumald. “It has lions outside of it and lots and lots of books. I love reading. I go the library, every day after school, and read until Miss French has to lock up.” Henry’s face scrunched as he thought of something. “It sucked, not being able to go to the library, when Miss French was out of the town.”

“I know the feeling.” Rumald told him before he drank from his beer.

Henry got up from the floor, and moved to stand next to Rumald’s armchair, leaning against the arm of the chair, as he said. “I like Miss French. She’s not mean like the old librarian. She doesn’t tell me off, when I bring books back late. And she gets me a hot chocolate from Grannies, with cinnamon and marshmallows.”

Rumald smiled, as he listened to Henry talk about Belle. “Though, she’s been very sad lately.”

“Has she?” Rumald inquired after his smile left his lips.

Henry shrugged his shoulders at Rumald. “Yeah.” Henry pulled a face before he said. “She was supposed to marry Gaston, but she said, she didn’t love him, so she called it off. I told her that was wise.”

“Indeed.” Rumald agreed with Henry.

“She’s living with Ruby now.” A devilish smile spread Henry’s lips wide. “Now, she gets as much pancakes and pie as she wants.” Henry boasted with his chest puffing out. “She brought a piece of pie to share with me today!”

“Did she now?” Rumald grinned at Henry, recognising so much of his son in Henry. “Was it pecan pie?”

Knitting his brow together, Henry jerked his head back, asking Rumald. “How did you know?”

Gesturing with his finger, for Henry to come closer, Rumald inclined himself to Henry and whispered to him. “It’s her favourite.”

“Is it?” Henry said aloud, drawing Emma and Neal to look at them.

“You were very lucky.” Rumald told him.

“Hey mum!” Henry bounded over to his mother. “Can we get Miss French a piece of pecan pie? It’s her favourite.”

“Sure, kid.” Emma smiled sweetly at him, tossing his hair with her fingers.

The doorbell rang in the foyer, making them all stop and look at the front door. Extracting himself from Emma, Neal launched up from the couch, digging his hand into the pocket of his jeans, and ambled into the foyer to open the front door. Rumald took a swig from his beer, eyeing Emma and Henry, out of the corner of his eye. He was surprised, how settled he felt, with them being in his house.

“Thanks, buddy.” Neal handed the delivery guy the money, and pivoted away from the doorway, nudging the front door shut with his hip, while announcing to the house. “Pizza!”

“I want five slices!” Henry exclaimed, running after Neal, who had gone through into the kitchen.

Emma groaned, as she got up from the couch and shouted through to Henry. “You’ll start with two slices!”

“His father was just as bad.” Rumald remarked from the armchair, clasping his bottle of beer, between both of his hands.

She halted, slowly she turned to face him, her eyes wide, as she said. “Excuse me?”

Standing up from his seat, Rumald wore a sly smile on his face as he walked over to her, almost walking by her, but stopped, angling his head to see her beside him. “It’s funny, how similar Henry is to Neal. Looks, mannerisms, interests.”

“How…?” Emma squeezed her mouth shut, forming her lips into a tight line, preventing herself from finishing her own question.

“My son might be blind.” Rumald slanted himself closer to her, whispering to her. “But I’m not blind.”

Emma quickly glanced to the foyer, checking they were alone, and said to him. “I’m going to tell him. I swear.” Her gaze flicked away from him for a second, as her head lulled to one side, pondering over something before she said. “I’m just trying to find the right time.”

“I’m not normally one, who offers people advise, but…” Rumald shifted to face her. “I would tell him, as soon as you can. From my own experience, the longer you leave it, the harder it will become to tell him. And I think, you’ve left it long enough already, don’t you?”

He held her gaze a moment longer, and then walked away from her, leaving her alone in his living room. Rumald took no pleasure from confronting Emma. It had to be done, not only for Neal’s sake, but for Emma’s sake as well. Keeping secrets, was not good for the soul. The darkness, he had in his own soul, was enough evidence to prove his point. He bowed his head, shaking his head at himself, knowing he was very much a hypocrite, when it came to telling the truth. A small part of him, believed he could repent for his misdeeds, by guiding Emma onto the right path. Then, maybe, that would put him onto his right path, becoming the man, worthy of Belle’s heart.


	37. Chapter 37

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Rumald is suffering with backache, when he's confronted by Gaston.

Opening his car door, Rumald rolled out of his car, groaning at the dull ache, residing in the lower part of his back. After closing his door, he stretched his back, bending himself as far back as he dared, while he pressed his hands just below his lower back, helping him to stretch that little bit extra. Rumald straightened his back, stood beside his car, his hands still resting above his butt, trapping his overcoat behind him, between his arms. Bending to his right and then his left, Rumald let out a small moan, feeling the ache in his lower back ease as he stretched. The ache was worth it. Rumald had given up his Sunday, to help Jefferson and Grace, sort through their stock, and had gone back today, to help them load the stock and other items, they were going to need in the New York store.

Letting his hands drop from his back, allowed his overcoat to encircle him, while Rumald staggered a couple of steps until he reached the kerb, and stopped to look at his shop in front of him. Food, that was what he needed right now. He had hardly eaten all day. Turning away from his shop, Rumald started to walk along the other shop fronts, winching at the protests, his lower back gave him as he walked. Rumald placed a supporting hand on his back, almost hobbling to lessen the strain on his back.

“God, I feel old.” He muttered under his breath to himself.

At the intersection, Rumald looked to his right as he stepped off the kerb, and as he crossed the street, he turned his head to the left, checking for cars, but his gaze went to the library instead. His paced slowed, when he come see the lights were on inside the library. Stepping to the safety of the opposite sidewalk, Rumald came to a stop at the corner of the street, staring directly across the intersection at the library’s doors. Going to her, would have been so simple. It would have taken him, probably thirty seconds to walk over there and enter the library, facing whatever Belle wanted to throw at him. However, the small voice in the back of his mind, persuaded him to turn away from the library, and he carried on with his journey to Grannies. 

With a quiet groan and a sturdy hand on the handrail, Rumald climbed the steps of Grannies’s porch, wondering why he had not gone home straight from Jefferson’s. He could have been relaxing in a hot tub, soothing his aching back with a gentle caress of the hot water, but instead, Rumald had told himself, he needed to come to the shop. Two weeks away had been long enough. He had work waiting for him, that had been sat waiting for his attention or to be mended. That was what he was telling himself, as he opened the door to Grannies, making the bell ring out and the blind on the back of the door to clatter.

As Rumald stepped into Grannies, the usual quietness descended over the occupants, all of them hushing their conversations, when they saw him enter. Gently pushing the door behind him, Rumald glanced round the room, scanning over all the face, with many of them avoiding his gaze. He tugged at the lapels of his overcoat, putting on a cool façade, while he sauntered from the door to the counter. The corner of his lip, twitched at the protests of his back, as Rumald made himself stand to his full height.

“What can I get you, Mr Gold?” The girl, with a large kind smile, asked from behind the counter, posed ready with her notepad.

Rumald eyed her name badge, unfamiliar with her face, and saw her name was Ariel before he looked to her face, when he made his order. “I’ll have an egg sandwich and fries to go, please Ariel.”

Ariel’s eyes flashed wide at hearing him say her name. As Rumald carefully took a seat at the counter, watchful of his back, Ariel went to take his order to the kitchen, giving Rumald a strange smile, while she walked away. Grimacing from the pain, Rumald leaned back slightly, giving himself more access to get his money clip from his pocket. He pulled a twenty-dollar bill from his clip, and returned his clip to his pocket, gazing down the counter to see Leroy and his buddies eyeing him. Offering them a grin, the short group of men huddled together, closing ranks, as Rumald chuckled at them.

“Here you go, Mr Gold.” Ariel proclaimed, as she waltzed along the counter, coming to stand on the other side from him, before she placed a takeout box in front of him. “Anything else?”

“Yeah, I’ll have a coffee to go as well. Milk, two sugars.” He told her, pointing to the coffee pot on the back wall.

“No problem.” She said eagerly, dashing to the counter on the back wall, selecting a takeout cup for his coffee.

Rumald bear his weight onto the counter, with his hands, as he slipped off his stool, preparing to leave. The door to Grannies opened behind him, and the all occupiers of Grannies went quiet, mimicking Rumald’s entrance. A behaviour reserved only for him, caught Rumald’s attention. Slowly twisting to see who had entered, Rumald saw out of the corner of his eye, Gaston, stood in front of the door, whilst the door closed behind him. Gaston’s gaze was on Rumald, his shoulders square, his fists clenched at his sides. Rumald turned back to face the counter, groaning inwardly, whilst Ariel put his takeout coffee on the counter.

“That’ll be six dollars, Mr Gold.” Ariel told him, smiling graciously at him.

Rumald handed her the twenty-dollar bill, telling her, as he picked up his order from the counter. “Keep the change.”

“What?” Ariel exclaimed, staring at the twenty in her hand. “Mr Gold, I couldn’t possibly! That’s too much!”

“It’s fine. Honestly, take it.” Rumald insisted, taking a step back from the counter.

Ariel was saying his name again, calling him back for his change, as Rumald turned away from the counter, grinning at Gaston, while he strolled for the door. Each step enticed a shot of pain from his back, forcing himself to hold his back straight, acting coolly in front of Gaston, though he was suppressing each wince from reaching his face. If looks could kill, Rumald would have been flat on his back, soaring straight down to hell, from the look Gaston was giving him.

Rumald cut short his step, seeing Gaston point his finger at him, saying. “You told her.”

“I’m sorry, dearie.” Rumald feigned innocence. “Told who, what?”

“You know, who I’m talking about.” Gaston’s finger shook with his pent up temper. “You told her.”

“You’re going to have be more specific. Since, you know, you’re involved with a lot people.” Rumald smirked as he spoke.

Gaston was like a steam training, rushing towards him, and slapped Rumald’s hand, holding the takeout coffee, splashing the nearby people with the hot contents, and spilled the rest of the coffee over the floor. Holding his ground, Rumald lifted his chin to meet Gaston’s gaze above him, while there was a commotion of people, moaning and muttering, the odd scream, as the people, who were covered in the coffee, sprung out of their seats.

Gaston poked his finger into Rumald’s chest, erupting a jolt of pain to travel up Rumald’s back, as Gaston said. “It was none of your business!”

“Everything in this town is my business.” Rumald sneered, ignoring the pain in his back.

“She was my fiancée! We had a deal!” Gaston declared to Rumald, stabbing his finger at Rumald’s chest.

Rumald glared up Gaston, resisting the urge to break Gaston’s finger. “Then you should’ve treated her better.”

Gaston lowered his face nearer to Rumald’s, prodding his finger harder, into the same spot on Rumald’s chest. “You should’ve kept your nose out of it! I warned you!”

“What the hell is going on in here?” Grannie’s voice boomed across the room, as she came from the corridor, leading to the bed and breakfast.

At hearing her voice, Gaston turned his head to look at Grannie, leaving himself wide open for attack. A snarl lifted Rumald’s upper lip, while he imagined, slamming his hand around Gaston’s throat, pushing Gaston off balance, while he choked him, and he would have sweep his leg out from underneath, landing on top of Gaston, pressing with all of his might into Gaston’s throat. He would feel good, while he did, powerful as he choked the life, out of Gaston. Any other day, he would have done it, even with the pain in his back.

Rumald took a step back from Gaston, gaining some distance, knowing he had to refuse to give in, to the darker side of himself. If he was going, to live up to the promise, he had made to himself, this would be the first stepping stone to doing that. He tired of the promise, after promise. It was time to change.

“You better not be in here, causing trouble, Gold!” Grannie warned, storming through the tables.

Ariel indicated Gaston with her finger. “It wasn’t Mr Gold, Grannie. It was Gaston.”

“What?” Gaston exclaimed, snapping his attention to Ariel.

“Well, I shouldn’t really be surprised.” Grannie stated, coming to stand next to Rumald and Gaston. “With all the trouble, you’ve been causing these past weeks for Belle, I should’ve known better.”

Gaston titled his head to the side, rolling his eyes at Grannie, trying to charm her. “I told you, it was just a misunderstanding.”

Grannie eyed Gaston over the top of her glasses, shoving her hands onto her hips. “And I told you, one more incident and you’d be barred.”

“Grannie,” Gaston pleaded with his hands to Grannie. “Come on! You can’t be serious!”

“Who’s drink was this?” Grannie looked round, directing a hand down to the takeout cup, lying abandoned on the floor.

“That’s Mr Gold’s.” Ariel supplied from behind the counter, smiling at Grannie, when she turned to look at her.

“Make him another coffee.” Grannie ordered before she pivoted back to face the two men, her gaze went to Rumald. “Then you can leave.”

Rumald remained quiet, giving a slight nod of his head to Grannie, while Gaston argued with Grannie. “Why are you doing that? You know, he’s the reason, Belle and I broke up! No one in this town even likes him!”

“Not many people like you either, Gaston.” Grannie returned her hands to her hips, standing strong in front of Gaston. “I think you’re mistaking tolerance for acceptance. And as far as I’m aware, Mr Gold did not make you sleep with all those women. The only person, you’ve got to blame, is yourself.”

Gaston flung his hand at Rumald, protesting to Grannie. “But he stuck his nose into our business! We had a deal!”

Grannie glared at Gaston, over the top of her glasses, gesturing to the door with her right hand, telling him. “I think it’s time you left, Gaston.”

“Here you go, Mr Gold.” Ariel said, as she came up behind Rumald, gently touching her fingers to his right shoulder.

Edging round, Rumald carefully took the coffee from her, smiling warmly at her. “Thank you, Ariel.”

Ariel returned his smile, but her eyes flicked over his shoulder, and her smile quickly left her face. At seeing this, Rumald stepped round to be confronted by Gaston, stood less than a foot away from him. Half smiling at Gaston, he waited, for whatever Gaston was going to do, pleading that he gave Rumald a good reason to react.

“This isn’t over, Gold!” Gaston declared. “You’ll get what’s coming to you.”

Rumald slanted himself forward, eliciting a cry from his back, as he said to Gaston. “I look forward to it, dearie.”

Twisting his lips, Gaston backed away from Rumald, moving his glare from Rumald to Grannie, and then around the room of the diner. With a swagger to his step, Gaston whipped round to the door, and yanked open the door, jangling the bell and clattering the blind on the door, and then slammed it behind him, making the blind dance wildly from the force. The tension over everyone relaxed, with chatter and gossiping erupting at every table. Rumald let his gaze roam over the room, witnessing the grapevine consuming the new titbit of gossip, spreading it like wildfire as people got their phones out, quickly messaging their friends. Shaking his head, Rumald glimpsed over his shoulder at Ariel, showed her a quick, thankful smile, and headed for the door, wanting to escape the mill house of gossip.

Watchful, as Rumald came out of the Grannie, balancing his coffee on top of his takeout box, he scouted round outside, looking for Gaston, and spotted him, marching away from Grannies, his head hung low with his hands in his pockets. He grinned, happy to watch Gaston walk away, defeated by Grannie. Although, Rumald would admit, he had had some fierce fights with Grannie in the past, but at least he had given the old woman, as much as she had given him. Gaston was no match for Grannie, and certainly, was no match for Rumald.

Rumald climbed down the steps from Grannie, allowing himself to grimace at the pain, holding the takeout box and coffee in either hand. Walking out from Grannies fenced area, he decided to pop in and see Dove, and then he was going home. He had misjudged how bad his back was, and was thankful, he had not gotten physical with Gaston. Being happy to pay the cost and paying the cost, were definitely two different things. Especially as the latter, probably meant, Rumald would be laid up in bed, recuperating, driven mad by day time television. At the thought of being laid up in bed, Rumald balanced his coffee on his takeout box, and flicked back his overcoat, slipping his hand underneath his coat to rub at his lower back. Though his touch was gentle and precise, Rumald moaned at the touch, his back automatically straightened in a futile attempt, to avoid his own touch. His face twisted at the pain, as he thought, the sooner he got home the better. 


	38. Chapter 38

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sheriff Nolan calls Rumald to inform him the shop has been broken into.

Laying in the tub, Rumald rested his head back onto a folded hand towel, relaxing in the tub, and soothing his sore back, while he read a Karin Slaughter book, that he had gotten at the airport, on the trip back to Storybrooke. He had not meant to get so drawn into the story. Only meaning for it to fill the time, while he had flown back from New York, but now he found he could not put the book down. Dying to know, what happened to Sara, Jeff and Lena. He carefully held his book, with one hand, above the water, as he reached over the edge of the tub, collected his whiskey glass from nearby cabinet, and drank from his whiskey, never taking his eyes off the pages of the book. It had been a long time, since a book had captivated him so much, and he was thoroughly enjoying it.

Whilst he was returning his whiskey glass, Rumald’s isolation was disturbed by the shrill of his phone, joined with a buzzing noise as his phone vibrated, buried in the pile of clothes beside the tub. Cocking his head to the side, Rumald eyed the pile of clothes, pondering over whether to ignore the call and read his book, or ruin his tranquillity, by moving to grab his phone. He struggled to make up his mind, weighing up the pros and cons, when his phone stopped crying. Pleased with the choice being taken away from him, Rumald returned his attention to his book, quickly finding his place on the page.

His peace and quiet did not last very long, with his phone kicking off again, screaming out for his attention. Letting out an exasperated moan, Rumald turned down the corner of his page, as he pushed his feet against the foot of the bath, sliding himself up into a sitting position. He reached over the edge of the tub, discarding his book, and rummaged in the pile of clothes, finding his phone in the pocket of his pants. Checking the caller ID, Rumald was a little baffled to see Sheriff Nolan was calling him.

Running his finger across the screen, answering the call, Rumald sat back into his tub, holding his phone to his ear. “Gold.”

“Mr Gold, it’s Sheriff Nolan.” Rumald squinted his eyes, at hearing the official tone to the Sheriff’s voice. “I’m calling to inform you, someone’s broken into your shop.”

Rushing forward in the tub, a wave of water sloshed to the foot of the bath, as Rumald sat up. “Excuse me?”

On the other side of the phone, Rumald could hear the Sheriff was instructing someone, before he spoke to Rumald. “Belle French called it in… It’s just a mess in here, Rumald.” The Sheriff sounded sorrowful, as he described the scene and then asked. “Are you able to come down here, or should I call Dove?”

“No, no.” Rumald waved his free hand, dismissing the Sheriff question. “I’m coming. Give me twenty minutes.”

“I wouldn’t worry. We’re going to be here a while.” The Sheriff informed him.

Rumald groaned and ended the call, whilst he grabbed the edge of the tub, aiding himself out of the tub. The water sloshed and splashed, as Rumald carelessly got out of it, spilling water onto the floor of his bathroom. He snatched a towel off the rail on his way out of his bathroom, vigorously drying himself, while he went straight to his chest of draws, discarding his phone to the top of them, and yanked open various draws, grabbing different items of clothing to put on. Dashing across his bedroom, to his wardrobe, Rumald threw open the door to his wardrobe, and reached inside, picking out a pair of old jeans, he usually wore around the house, but choice to put them on for ease. He grabbed a random dress shirt, from its hanger, and slid his arms into it, pulling it on as he crossed back to his chest of draws, collecting his phone. With his phone in his pocket, Rumald grabbed his money clip and wallet before he left his bedroom, rushing down the hallway to the landing, and down the stairs. He stuffed his feet into his old sneakers, while he grabbed his overcoat from the coat hook, and left the house, without putting on his coat or tying the laces to his sneakers.

Arriving at his shop, Rumald parked his car beside the Sheriff’s truck, his gaze on his shop and the officers lingering outside. They all turned their gazes onto him, watching him, as he got out of his Cadillac, slamming the door after himself. He threw on his overcoat, scrutinising them, while he walked out from between the cars, and onto the sidewalk, approaching where they were all huddled together, blocking the entrance to his shop. They awkwardly moved aside, granting himself access to his own shop, wary of Rumald and his mood.

“It’s a bit of a mess.” Sheriff Nolan commented, observing Rumald as he entered his own shop, moving his eyes over the damage to his shop.

Rumald remained silent, treading cautiously whilst he came further into his shop. The glass counters were smashed, the glass cabinets were smashed, the curtained doorway was ripped down, items were broken on the floor and had been thrown across the room. Broken glass under Rumald’s feet crunched, as he surveyed more of the damaged, nearing the Sheriff, who stood by the main counter.

“Emma’s popped to the station to grab her dusting kit.” The Sheriff informed him, rocking idly on his heels.

Slowly bringing his gaze to the Sheriff, Rumald said. “And I can tell you now, who’s done this.”

“Who?” Sheriff Nolan asked.

“Gaston Phipps is the first person, that comes to mind.” Rumald remarked, casting his gaze to the right side of the room.

“Recent disagreement?” The Sheriff inquired, as he pulled his notepad, out of his back pocket of his jeans, and noted down the name.

Rumald brought his gaze back to the Sheriff. “Something like that.”

“I’ll have a chat with him tomorrow.” Sheriff Nolan told him before adding. “But we’ll dust anyway, just in case, it was an outsider instead of a resident.”

“I doubt it.” Rumald commented.

The Sheriff titled his head to the side, resting his hands on his gun belt, as he said. “Rumald, I did advise you, years ago, to get an alarm system fitted. Especially with the rarity of some of your items and the cash, you keep on the premises.”

“Have you checked the safe?” Rumald asked the Sheriff, spying over the Sheriff’s shoulder to the picture, which hid the safe from sight.

“No, we didn’t want to contaminate the scene.” Sheriff Nolan explained to Rumald.

“Do you mind, if I do?” Rumald asked, motioning with his hand to behind the counter.

The Sheriff’s brow pressed slightly down over his eyes, twisting at his waist to look over the broken counter, and said. “I don’t see why not. Your fingerprints are going to be all over the scene anyway.”

“Wouldn’t make sense, for me to smash up my own shop.” Rumald retorted dryly, as he watched his step, making his way behind the counter, trying not to disturb too much of the debris on the floor.

“You’d be surprised, how often it does happen.” The Sheriff shared with Rumald, turning to follow Rumald, watching him on the other side of the counter.

Rumald touched the corner of the painting, covering up the safe, and gently pulled at the corner, persuading the painting to swing away from the wall, revealing the small black safe behind it. Inspecting the outside of the safe, he could not see any signs of someone tampering with it. He spun the combination lock, inputting his wedding anniversary, and pushed down the handle to open his safe. Spying inside, checking the contents, Rumald was positive it was untouched and shut the door to the safe, locking it and spinning the lock.

“All there?” The Sheriff asked.

Rumald turned and went to put his hands on the counter, like he had done a million times before, but stopped seeing the broken glass, and dropped his hands to his sides, saying. “Looks to be all there.”

The Sheriff took a step back, turning to face sideways, while his gaze combed over the state of the shop. “Doubt it was robbery then.”

“An outsider isn’t going to trash my shop for no reason.” Rumald supplied.

“No.” Sheriff Nolan agreed, turning his gaze to Rumald. “We’ll collect what evidence we can, and I’ll make sure to have a chat with Mr Phipps in morning.”

“Do you need anything more from me?” Rumald asked, coming out from behind the broken counter, looking at the mess, he and Dove would have to tidy at a later date.

Sheriff Nolan shook his head. “No, I don’t think so. If we do, I’ll call you.”

Rumald acknowledge this with a nod of his head, and traipsed out of his shop, refusing to look at anymore of the damage to his shop. As he got to the door of his shop, Rumald came face to face with Emma, as she was coming into the shop.

“Deputy Nolan.” Rumald greeted, stepping to the side, allowing her to enter first.

“Mr Gold.” Emma greeted him with a small smile, awkwardly carrying a large plastic toolbox in front of herself, as she came into his shop.

When she was clear of the door, Rumald went to leave, but stopped, hearing Emma say. “Oh, Mr Gold.” He crooked his head to see her, over his shoulder, taking a step back to him. “You might want to pop by Grannies and check on Belle. She got herself worked up, thinking you were in here and something bad… had happened to you.”

Bowing his head, Rumald acknowledge what she had said and walked out of his shop, drawing the flaps of his overcoat closed to the cold evening air. The three deputies stood outside, hushed when Rumald came out of the shop, sheepishly eyeing Rumald, whispering to one another. Ignoring the young officers, he started towards Grannies, tucking his hands into the pockets of his overcoat, using his pockets to keep his coat closed.

Whilst he walked, Rumald shook his head, unbelieving the state of his shop. Thousands of pounds’ worth of damage. He was glad, that his sole income did not come from the shop. Realistically, Rumald did not need the shop, but it was useful to have somewhere to conduct business, and also served to occupy Rumald on the quiet days.

Crossing the intersection, he pushed his thoughts of the shop away, and considered what Emma had said to him about Belle. Rumald pushed back the sleeve on his arm, to check the time on his watch, and rolled his eyes, seeing he had forgotten to put his watch on, in the rush to get out of his house. It must have been late, he contemplated, glancing back to the clock above the library. The clock was hardly reliable, but it showed, it was ten past nine. Scrunching his brow, Rumald thought, it was a too early in the evening, for a break in, though it was not like Gaston was a professional. _‘Idiot.’_ , Rumald chuckled at his thought, as he crossed the fence line into Grannies and climbed the steps to the porch.

The bell above the door rung and the blind clattered on the back of door, as Rumald opened the door and slipped into Grannies, quickly shutting the door, to keep the cold from following him. Glancing round the room, there were only a few people in Grannies, mostly sitting on their own, enjoying a late supper before they went home or on shift for the night. Rumald moved over to the counter, and angled himself to try and see more behind the counter. As neared the counter, Rumald leaned the other way, trying to spy through the hatch into the kitchen, when Ruby popped up from being knelt behind the counter.

“Mr Gold,” Ruby pleasantly greeted him. “What can I do for you?”

“Emma said, Belle was here.” Rumald told her, placing his hands on the counter.

For a brief second, Ruby’s brow knitted together before she pointed to corridor, connecting the diner to the bed and breakfast. “She’s gone up to her room.”

“Ah…” Rumald pivoted round to see the corridor, Ruby indicated with her finger.

Ruby leaned forward, trying to catch his eye, telling him. “You can go up, if you like, she’s in room six.”

Slowly, Rumald peered to his right, to look at Ruby, who was giving him a knowing smile. Squinting his eyes at her, he wondered why she had been so helpful, when it came to him and Belle. In the past, Ruby had more than once, shown him that she had inherited the nasty whip of her grandmother’s tongue. Belittling him, when the moment had called for it. Though, there had never been any animosity between them, it was surprised Rumald, how supportive Ruby was being. Maybe, it was more Belle, she was aiding, rather Rumald.

“Thank you, Ruby.” He voiced his gratitude to her.

“Think nothing of it.” She said to him, waving a hand at his thanks, before she turned her back to him, collecting a cup from the counter, and turned back, presenting it to Rumald. “This is for Belle. You’re saving me a job.”

Mindful, as he took the cup from her, Rumald exchanged the cup between his hands, until he was holding the cup, by its handle, in his right hand. Looking from the cup to Ruby, half a smile pulled back one side of Rumald’s lips, whilst he gazed at Ruby. She grinned at him, pleased with herself, and strolled away from him, along the counter, heading towards the kitchen. Feeling duped, Rumald dropped his gaze to the cup in his hand, and walked away from the counter, waltzing to the corridor, leading to the B&B.

He passed through the corridor and into the B&B, coming out into the reception area, and found Grannie, stood behind the small desk. She did not move, only her eyes moved, looking at him, from over the top of her glasses. His pace slowed, observing Grannie, while she did the same of him, watching him as he started to climb the stairs. After climbing to the small landing and switching to the next set of stairs, Rumald peered back down the stairs, over the banister, finding Grannie was watching him, like a hawk. He frowned at the scrutiny, Grannie was giving him, and carried on up the stairs.

At the top of the small second flight of stairs, were two small signs, one pointed to the left, indicating rooms one to four, and the other sign, pointed to the right, showing rooms five to eight. Rumald inspected the short hallway, before he took a step, selecting the right hallway. Glancing at the first door on his left, he saw a large bronze number five on the door, and checked with the opposite door, to see the same, but as a number eight. He pulled the flaps of his overcoat, closer together, nervously straightening his appearance, as he drew closer to her door. Stood outside of door, Rumald lifted his hand to knock at her door, and looked down at the cup, which looked like tea, and then gently knocked her door. He stepped back, not wanting to overcrowd her, when she opened the door, and rechecked his appearance again.

The door opened, with Belle saying. “You know, your minute’s are very special, Ruby. You always take about half an hour, whenever you say, ‘in a minute’.”

“Yeah, I’ve found that at times.” Rumald remarked, startling Belle.

“Rumald? You’re alright?” She questioned, holding onto the edge of her door.

He smiled at her concern. “Yes, I’m fine.”

“What’re you doing here?” Belle asked, while she leaned out of her room, checking down the hallway.

“Well, I came to see, if you were alright.” He then gestured to the cup in his hand. “But it seems, I’m now an errand boy.” And took the cup into his left hand, offering the handle to Belle.

“Oh,” She took the cup from him, eyeing the contents. “Is that my tea?”

Rumald gestured to her cup. “Ruby gave it to me, so… Could be your tea, if you asked half an hour ago for it.”

Bringing her gaze up to see his face, Belle giggled at him. “Probably is then.”

They stood there in a comfortable silence, holding each other’s gaze. Rumald slyly breathed out, needing to calm himself as he struggled to keep control of himself. She was a free, single woman. Everything he had desired, stood before him, screaming for him to reach out, and take it, claiming her for himself. All the thoughts, the dreams, the wishes he had – they had merged into this moment. Rumald did not want nothing else, apart from to have her in his arms, and to kiss her until his dying day. Belle was right there in front of him, only feet away, and was just outside of his grasp.

“Do you want to come in?” She asked politely, checking her room over her shoulder.

Rumald had already taken step into her room, closing the space between them, as he responded. “Yes.”

There was a faint blush to her cheeks, after she turned her gaze back to him, and found him stood very close to her. Belle stepped out of his way, hiding herself partly behind her door, observing him as he entered her room. Letting his gaze, roam around the room, Rumald moved into the middle of the room, clearing the doorway, and glimpsed over his shoulder, when he heard her close the door to the room.

“It’s not like our room in Boston.” Belle said to him, walking pass him, to sit down onto the foot of the bed, and bent herself over, to put her cup down on the floor, by her feet. “But it’s homely.”

Rumald motioned to the drawn curtains. “I bet the view isn’t as good, either.”

She let out a short chuckle. “No, no expensive yachts, outside that window. Just the parking lot.”

Playing with the ring on his right ring finger, Rumald braced a smile for her, feeling uncomfortable, stood in the middle of the room. Belle sensed his unease, and shifted to her left on the bed, making room for him beside her.

“Come and sit down.” Belle directed, patting the bed with her hand.

He strolled casually over to her, masking his nervousness, and sat down next to her, mindful to not sit too close to her, not wanting his desire for her, to overpower him. Glancing sideways at her, Rumald was rewarded by Belle, beaming a smile at him, that instantly put him at ease. While he kept his head turned to her, Rumald was astounded, he had managed to go three weeks without finding her. As all he could think, sitting next to her, was how he never wanted to be anywhere else, but by her side.

She placed her hand on top of his left thigh, her fingertips pressed into his jeans, as she said to him. “I was so worried earlier about you.” Her head lulled to the side. “I saw Gaston come out of Grannies earlier, and then you came out afterwards, hobbling with your hand on your back. I thought, he’d hurt you or something had happened in Grannies. And then… When I had finished in the library and was locking up, I looked over and saw your shop was open…” She bowed her head, hiding her gaze from him. “I thought the worse, as I never saw you leave and Dove had gone out in your car.”

Rumald was dumbfounded – Was she stalking him? Although, he could not talk. He was always watching the library, watching the street, in case there was a chance, to catch a glimpse of her. It was the first time, Rumald realised, that Belle felt as strongly about him, as he did about her. Course, she had told him, she loved him too, but the words, ‘I love you’, were thrown away too easily these days. Though, when Rumald told her, he loved her, what he had really been confessing, was that he could not go another day without her in his life. He did not want to take another breath, unless she was by his side. He never wanted to think about future, where she was not a part of it. But to realise, the ferocity of his feeling were mirrored in Belle… Well, there was not much else to say, apart from Rumald, was a very lucky man.

“Gaston didn’t hurt me.” Rumald revealed to her, as he laid his hand on top of hers, squeezing her small delicate hand. “I did it to myself, helping out Jefferson.”

“But I didn’t see you leave…?” Belle said to him, scowling at him as she waited for him to answer her question.

A reassuring smile spread his lips, as he explained. “While I was having my lunch, Dove went and put some more gas in my car, as I was supposed to be going to Portland again tomorrow. When he came back to the shop, I told him to take me home and I laid down in the back of the car, because it was easier on my back. You must have missed, seeing me get into the car.” He picked her hand up from his leg, and clasped it between both of his hands. “I wasn’t in the shop, sweetheart.”

She yanked her hand out of his grasp, dazing him with her sudden movement, and threw herself at him, wrapping her arms around his neck, and pulled herself against the side of his chest. “I was so worried!”

He slipped his arm out, from between them, and coiled his arm around her, as he buried his face into the side of her head. Greedily, Rumald took in a deep breath of her, instantly losing the tension, which he had been carrying around for three weeks. Their embrace was clumsy, but it was perfect to Rumald as he held her, not caring about anything, beyond the four walls of her room.

Belle pressed her hand onto his chest, pushing herself back from him, to say. “I’m sorry, Rumald.”

“What for?” He asked her, stroking some of her hair out of her face, tracing the hair to sit behind her ear.

“For what I said at your house.” She shamefully bowed her head. “You were right, by the way, I lying to myself and was being stubborn. Telling myself, I could make it work with Gaston, because I had committed myself to that life with him. But…” Belle cupped Rumald’s face in her hands. “The night before the wedding, all I could think about was you and how much I wanted you.”

“Belle, it doesn’t matter.” He told her, with his hands on her sides. “As long, as you’ve made the right choice for yourself. That’s all that matters.”

Her eyes glistened with the tears, that were beginning to pool in her eyes. “I just want to be with you, Rumald.”

Rumald smiled at her, showing her, his crooked teeth. “I want nothing more, than to be yours.”

Throwing herself at him, Rumald struggled to get his arms around her, while she crashed her lips into his, capturing him into a bruising kiss. Her kiss was urgent, and needed, with her fingers digging into his cheeks, preventing his escape. He titled his head to the side, giving her better access to his lips, and returned her kiss. Belle was unrelenting, hungrily eating up his lips, desperate for more, as her tongue tried to invade his mouth. Overcome, with Belle’s need for him, Rumald gave into her and opened his mouth, groaning as her tongue surged into his mouth, frantic to taste him. It did not take much persuasion from Belle, to get him to lay back onto the bed, and slung her leg over him, positioning herself on top of him. There were no complaints from Rumald, only encouragement, wanting to provide her, with the sustenance she required.


	39. Chapter 39

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Rumald wakes up alone.

As he gradually woke up, from his deep slumber, Rumald reached his arm out, trying to find the warm body, that should have been lying next to him. Cracking his eyes open, to look for her, his eyes blew wide open, and he sat up in the bed, finding Belle was gone. Fully awake, Rumald scanned his eyes over the room, thankful he had woken up in her room at Grannies, and not alone in his own bed. It would have been too much, for Rumald, to realise, it had all been a dream. Looking to the pillow, she had slept on last night, he twisted at his waist to grab it, and buried his nose into it, inhaling the exquisite smell of her. He closed his eyes, with a smile growing on his face, remembering their night together.

Rumald returned her pillow, to the head of the bed, and bounced himself across the bed, leaping out of it, to go into the bathroom. The size of the small bathroom, made him stop in the doorway, missing his large bathroom at home. Gazing up, to the small window, he lifted the lid on the toilet, and relieved himself, letting his eyes roam over the bathroom, noting the items that were Belle’s. When he was finished, he put the toilet seat down and flushed, taking a minuscule sidestep to the sink, to turn on the taps, and washed his hands and splashed his face with hot water.

Coming out of the bathroom, Rumald searched the bedroom, padding further into the room, looking for his boxers and his other clothes. Confused, as to where they had gone, he spun on the spot, scanning the room for his underwear. Completing a circuit of the room, Rumald knelt down, perusing underneath the bed, and saw his boxers, lying just under Belle’s side of the bed. He stood up and went to her side of the bed, and crouched down beside the bed, reaching under the bed to retrieve his boxers. Once he had his boxers on, Rumald made short work of locating his other clothes, and put each one on as he found them.

He reached his hand into his jeans pocket, to pull out his phone, and unlocked his phone, selecting to call Belle, as he left her room, with his overcoat folded over his left forearm. The door clicked shut behind him, and Rumald checked it was locked, before he sauntered away from her door, holding his phone to ear. Whilst he was descending the stairs, her voicemail answered for her, pleasantly asking him to leave a message after the beep. Rumald hung up and stowed his phone back into his jeans pocket, as he stepped off the last step of the stairs, entering the reception area of the bed and breakfast. He was thankful, there was no one in the reception area, but could hear voices, filtering down the corridor from the diner. Choosing to avoid diner, Rumald unfolded his overcoat, and slid his arm into his coat, whilst he opened the door to exit Grannies, via the bed and breakfast. He pulled it close behind him, while he fed his other arm into his coat, shrugging it onto his shoulders.

Rumald closed the flaps of his overcoat, as he went the steps of the small porch, glimpsing round for anyone, who might have spotted him, coming out of Grannies. Heading for his shop, he followed the alley, from the back of Grannies to the road, which linked up with the intersection. His eyes squinted in thought, pondering where Belle could have been, narked he had not woken up with her beside him.

Swiftly taking the corner, at the beginning of the shop fronts, leading to his own shop, Rumald looked ahead of him, to see his Cadillac parked in front of his shop. Beside it, was Emma’s yellow Beetle. He curiously eyed her car, as he approached his shop, and when he was close enough, moved his gaze to look through his shop window, spotting Emma talking to Dove inside of his shop. Rumald walked into his shop, whilst Dove pointed to the side door of the shop, his back to Rumald. The two were too engrossed in their conversation, to notice Rumald at first, but they both looked to him, when they heard the crunch of glass under Rumald’s feet.

“Morning, Mr Gold.” Emma greeted him.

Rumald strolled up to them, saying, as Dove pivoted round to face him. “Did you find anything useful last night?”

Emma’s eyebrows hunched down over her eyes, not liking the tone Rumald used with her, and told him. “Graham’s at the station right now, scanning the prints into the computer. Should know something before lunch.”

“It’ll only come back as mine and Dove’s.” Rumald foresaw.

“Why’d do you say that?” Emma asked him, titling her head to one side.

“Everyone’s watched an episode of CSI or Law and Order.” Rumald informed her with an amused smile, from having to point out the obvious to her. “Any idiot knows to wear gloves.”

Emma braced her hands onto her hips, bold as she said to him. “Yeah, like the idiot, who didn’t take my dad’s advice and didn’t install a security system.”

Rumald smirked at her. “Touché, Miss Nolan.”

“Which is why, I stopped by this morning.” She said to him, and waved a hand to Dove. “I was just telling, Mr Dove, the things I would do, to make this place more secure.”

Before he bowed his head in thanks to Emma, Rumald glanced at Dove, and said. “I appreciate the help, Miss Nolan.”

“And also,” Emma stepped closer to Rumald, to say. “Dad told me, to tell you, not to do anything to Gaston.”

“I’m not sure what you mean, dearie, but I wouldn’t dream of doing anything to Mr Phipps.” He fibbed to her, keeping a straight face as he did.

Emma did not look convinced, while she eyed him suspiciously, slowly moving her gaze from Rumald to Dove, emphasising her point by pointing her finger at them in turn. “That goes for both of you.”

Scrunching his brow at her, Rumald said to her, clasping his hands in front of him. “Don’t you think, we’ve got enough to contend with, then chasing down some high school football coach?”

She held up her hands to him, telling him. “Just passing on the message from dad.”

“Well, as you can see, Miss Nolan,” Rumald waved his right hand, indicating the disarray surrounding them. “We’ve got a lot of work to get on with. So, if you wouldn’t mind leaving, we’ve got a lot of tidying up to do.” He stated to her, while he motioned to Dove, to go through into the backroom.

Emma stepped out of Dove’s way, watching him walk to the doorway, leading to the backroom, and said, when he had gone through the doorway. “Neal’s planning to come home this weekend.” She shamefully dropped her gaze. “I’m going to try and tell him this weekend.”

“Good.” Rumald watched her slowly raise her gaze to meet his own. “The sooner, the better.”

She gave him a questioning look, as though, she had expected Rumald, to offer her some advice or some words of reassurance. Studying her face, he could see in her eyes, that Emma had hoped for something more from him. Possibly thinking, he would support her through this difficult issue. If her secret, had not involved his son, Rumald could have cared less about her. Yes, he could make an excuse for her – too young, too scared, made to do it by her mother - but nevertheless, Emma had had a choice in the matter. She had decided to keep this secret from Neal, and she would very well face the consequences of her actions, just as Rumald had all of his life. For better or worse, he had dealt the repercussions, so many times, he should have learnt his lesson. 

“I better go.” She muttered, gesturing to the open doorway with her hand, and strolled pass him, eyeing him over her shoulder.

Letting out a small sigh, Rumald’s brow knitted together, as he thought about his own misdeeds with his son. It had been a belittling experience for Rumald, to ask Neal, for forgiveness. A man, so focus on not looking weak, to anyone, had done the most difficult thing in his life, throwing himself, at the mercy of his own son. The experience had made him face his true self, the coward, who would have rather thrown someone under a bus, than confront his own faults. He squeezed his eyes shut, reminding himself, that he had promised to change.

“Miss Nolan.” He called her name and turned, to see her stood on the threshold of his doorway. “It’ll be difficult, but…” Rumald looked away from her, taking a breath to stem the build-up of emotion he felt, and looked back to her, telling her. “You’ve just got to hang in there. Neal’s very forgiving.”

Emma smiled at him. “Thank you.”

Rumald acknowledged her thanks, with a nod of his head, and watched, as she stepped out of his shop and ambled by his shop window, glimpsing back through the window at him. Hearing Dove’s footsteps, he angled his head, to see Dove approaching him, his gaze on Emma as she walked out of sight.

“What would you like to do, about Mr Phipps?” Dove inquired, coming to standstill behind Rumald.

Rumald turned his head away from Dove, surveying the destruction. “Let them do their investigation.” He parted his overcoat, putting his hands onto his hips. “He isn’t going anywhere.”

“As you wish.” Dove said.

“Actually, Dove,” He pivoted round to face Dove. “I’m going to pop home and change. If you can make a start on this,” He said, waving a hand to the mess. “I’ll drop by the store on my way back and get some more trash bags.”

“Course, sir.” Dove nodded his head at Rumald.

Straightening his overcoat, Rumald ambled out of his shop, careful where he stepped, and left his shop, to get into his car. Whilst he was walking to the driver’s side of his car, Rumald threw his gaze across the street, hoping to see Belle before he climbed into his car. The clock on the tower, showed it was about ten past nine, meaning she should have been in the library. With his hand on top of his car door, he frowned as he looked at the library, unable to tell if she was there or not. The voice of doubt in the back of his mind, tried to sway him, that she regretted their night together, and had ran away from him as soon as she had awoken. Shaking his head at it, Rumald pushed the thought out of his head, whilst he climbed into his car to drive home.

Freshly showered, dressed in his three-piece suit, Rumald pulled up in the alleyway, beside his shop, and opened his door, letting himself out of the car. He shut his door, and immediately opened the rear passenger door, and grabbed a plastic bag from the backseat. Closing the rear passenger door, Rumald was stunned to see the side door, to his shop, was open, and walked through it into the front of the stop. He was astonished as he came into the shop, discovering Dove had hit the front of the shop hard, clearing a lot of the debris, which had been scattered about the shop, and had swept most of the glass up from the floor. There were small piles of dust, splintered pieces of wood and glass, dotted in different areas of the floor. Rumald placed the plastic carrier bag on what remained of his counter, casting his gaze around the room, pleased with the work Dove had done, while he had been gone. Scratching aimlessly at his beard, Rumald walked to the uncovered doorway, and went into the backroom, as Dove came in through the back door, carrying a large trashcan.

“You’ve done well.” Rumald commented.

“Thank you, sir.” Dove said, shutting the back door behind him.

Rumald removed his overcoat and suit jacket as one, and crossed the backroom, to hang them on the coat stand, telling Dove. “I’ll make us a drink, and then I’ll come and help you.”

Dove put the trashcan down, suggesting to Rumald. “It might be worth, you doing a stock check, sir, while I tend to clearing up.”

“That’s not a bad idea.” Rumald remarked to Dove, with his hand on the kettle, about to check the water level.

“I’ve already printed out a recent stocklist for you.” Dove said, hooking his thumb to the large printer, they kept on the shelving stack.

“Sounds like a plan.” Rumald agreed to Dove’s suggestion, and clicked the kettle on to boil, while he grabbed their mugs from the shelf.

Picking up the trashcan, and collecting the dustpan and brush on his way, Dove went through into the front of the shop, leaving Rumald alone in the backroom. The backroom was not as bad as the front of the shop. Items had mostly been knocked off the shelf, with much of the damage, emanating from when Rumald had previously lost his temper, taking a cane to the defenceless items. ‘ _Going to be an expensive month.’_ , he thought, putting the needed ingredients into their mugs.

While he waited for the kettle to finish boiling, he went to the printer, and grabbed the printout Dove had done for him, reading down the list as he went back to the small kitchenette. Nearing the kitchenette, Rumald’s phone shrilled out, from his inside pocket of his suit jacket. He diverted himself to the coat stand, hearing the kettle click behind him, as he slipped his hand into the inside pocket, of his suit jacket, and pulled out his phone to answer it.

“Gold.” He responded, drifting over to the kitchenette, his gaze on the printout in his hand.

“Hey Rumald.” Jefferson greeted. “Weren’t you coming over today?”

Rumald rolled his eyes at himself, laying the printout onto the counter, of the kitchenette, and poured the kettle into the two mugs. “Sorry, Jefferson, I completely forgot to call you. The shop was broken into last night, so I’m here with Dove, sorting through the mess.”

“Oh, god. You okay? Nobody got hurt, did they?” Jefferson asked, his voice full of concerned.

“Yeah, everyone’s fine. Neither of us were here.” Rumald told him, as he placed the kettle back onto its stand.

“I had a break in, a few years ago now, and it was awful.” Jefferson shared with him. “Just make sure to get onto your insurance, ASAP. They love taking your money off of you, but they’re very slow, when it comes to paying out.”

Rumald stirred the drinks, saying to Jefferson. “Yeah, I can imagine.”

“Did they take much?” Jefferson inquired.

“No, it looks more like they just trashed the place, but we’re going to do a stock check anyway.” Rumald said as his answer, and picked up Dove’s mug, to take through into the front of the shop.

“Oh…” Jefferson paused. “Who’ve you pissed off?”

Rumald chuckled at Jefferson’s question, handing off Dove’s drink to him, and walked back into the backroom, retorting with his own question. “Who haven’t I pissed off?”

It was Jefferson’s turn to laugh. “Suppose you’ve got a point.”

“I already know whose done it, but we’ll see what the Sheriff says.” Rumald remarked, stood by the kitchenette counter, lifting up a page of the printout, continuing to read the list of stock.

“Who?” Jefferson immediately asked.

Rumald breathed out heavily through his nose, and said. “Belle’s ex.”

“Well, that would make sense.” Jefferson commented and then changed the subject of their conversation. “Have you spoken to Belle?”

Letting go of the piece of paper, Rumald smirked, thinking of Belle, as he said. “We’ve spoken… Somewhat.”

“What does that mean?” Jefferson questioned, a hint of confusion in his voice.

“Nothing.” Rumald told him, removing the smirk from his face. “We’ve spoken, but we’ve probably got a lot more talking to do.”

“But at least, you’re talking!” Jefferson became enthusiastic, as he spoke.

His lips tweaked into a smirk. “Yes, there is that.”

“What?” Jefferson asked, hearing something in Rumald’s tone.

“No, I’m agreeing with you. It’s good, that we’re talking.” Rumald summarised their conversation.

Jefferson did not say anything for a few seconds, before he said. “Anyway, enough about your love life. Should I expect you in New York, in the next couple of days?”

“Erm…” Rumald turned his gaze to the front of the shop, looking pass his shop to the library in his mind’s eye. “I’m not sure yet.”

“I understand, you’ve got things there, that you need to take care of, but I would appreciate you being there, Rumald.” Jefferson imparted to Rumald. “This is the biggest thing, I’ve done businesswise in over ten years and I had Priscilla supporting me back then. I just…” Rumald heard him take a breath. “I could really do with someone by my side at the minute.”

Rumald felt deeply for his friend, understanding from first-hand experience, what it was like to need someone, but had learnt a long time ago, as a young boy, to only rely on himself. Watching his father drive away, abandoning him with his aunts, had been the foundation for Rumald, to strive to do things on his own and stand on his own two feet, without needing anyone else’s help. Except with this drive to do things on his own, Rumald had developed a hard shell to the world, taking out his resentment for his father on those, who dared to cross him. He liked to think, he was still that hard cruel man, who had married Milah. The man, who Milah and Cora had both fallen in love with, however his fondness for his son, had softened his callous resolve.

Throwing his hand up into the air, Rumald heard himself say. “Give me a day or two. Any problems, just call and I’ll get on the first flight.”

“Thank you, Rumald.” Jefferson sounded relieved.

“You don’t need to thank me.” Rumald told him, as his top lip curled, hating it when people thanked him. “I’m your business partner, if it wasn’t for the break in, I’d be there with you.”

“Okay, but I’m grateful for your help, Rumald.” Jefferson told him, while Rumald pressed his lips into a thin line, with Jefferson going on to say. “Anyway, I better go and catch my flight. The driver should be getting into New York, in the next hour or so.”

Rumald nodded his head at Jefferson, even though he could not see him, and said. “Message me, if there’s any problems.”

“I will.” Jefferson said goodbye and ended the call.

Holding his hand out in front of him, Rumald spied down at his phone before he slipped it into his pocket, while at the same time, he collected his drink from the counter. He drank from his lukewarm coffee, whilst he picked up the stocklist, and moseyed through into the front of the shop. Without thinking about it, Rumald went to put down his mug on the broken glass counter, but caught himself, before he spilled the contents of his mug into the display unit. Dove came through the side door, as Rumald went to the front of the shop, putting his mug and the stocklist on top of an antique sideboard. He scratched at his beard, hating his beard, as he picked up the first page of the stocklist, turning to back round to the shop, ready to start his search for the items on the list.


	40. Chapter 40

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Rumald goes to meet Belle after work. So does her father...

Scratching at his beard, along the line of his jaw, Rumald squinted his eyes at the remains of the glass counter, pondering what he was going to do with it. He had made them years ago, making them in backroom of the shop. What he was really asking himself, was whether he could be bothered to repair them or shell out the money to buy new ones, using the break in as an excuse to revamp the shop. Rumald followed the path of his itch, from the line of his jaw to the nape of his neck, pressing his lips into a thin line as he thought about it. The main problem Rumald had, with rebuilding the counters, was having enough time to make them. Jefferson had made it quite clear, that he needed Rumald’s support right now. Making the counters would take a couple of days and Rumald really wanted to get the shop back to normal, instead of the bare state it was now, after he and Dove had spent the day clearing it.

Rumald dropped his hand down from his neck, choosing to think about it later, and flicked off the lights in the backroom of his shop. Walking through into the front of the shop, parting the curtain out of the way with his arm, he peered across the room to the side door, seeing the top and bottom deadbolts were slid across. He pulled his keys out of his pocket, flicking through the keys to pick out the new front door key, while he waltzed across the empty shop, his gaze on the bunch of keys in his hands. As he neared the door to shop, Rumald slowed his step, sweeping his eyes around the spacious room, feeling strange at seeing his shop so empty. Huffing a breath out of his nose, Rumald stood shaking his head at the expansive space, and then turned to the door to leave, doing his best to contain his annoyance at the situation.

After locking the front door of the shop, Rumald pocketed his keys and walked away from his shop, walking out into the street, drawn to the beacon of light across the street. He had missed his chance to see her earlier in the day, being called out by Marco, wanting to walk Rumald through the refurbishment he was doing. It had not been until Rumald had gotten back, he had received a message from her, admitting she was thinking about him, and Dove had informed him, Belle had left him some lunch in the backroom. He had smiled as he had dug into the lunch she had left him, and had replied to her message, confessing he was too. Though, while he had sat at his workbench, doing these things, the voice inside of his head had teased him, telling him that he was already putting Belle second to his work. Nearing the door to the library, the same voice mocked him, reiterating what it had said earlier to him. A stern look came across his face, as Rumald insisted to himself, _‘I will not, make the same mistakes!’_. Snatching open the library door, Rumald dumped his negative thoughts at the door and went inside, unable to wait any longer to see her.

The door closed behind him, keeping the negativity at bay, and Rumald stopped just inside of the library, expectantly looking for Belle in the sea of shelves. Stepping further into the library, he inclined himself forward to see through the open doorway of her office, seeing her office was shrouded in darkness. Rumald approached the circulation counter, laying his hand on top of the counter, as he roamed his eyes over the shelves again.

On hearing a strange noise, which could only be described as someone struggling, Rumald hastily took enough steps to look by the circulation desk, surprised to find a very short person, carrying a very large stack of books in front of them. The stack towered over whoever it was, balancing the top of the stack against their head. Knitting his brow together, forming deep lines across his forehead, Rumald moved closer and grabbed some of the stack from them, revealing it was Henry.

“Mr Gold!” Henry exclaimed, looking up at Rumald.

“What are you doing with all of these books?” Rumald inquired, stooping to easily grab the rest of the stack from Henry.

“I’m helping Miss French.” Henry disclosed, beaming a smile, and twisted at his waist, pointing back to where he had come from, telling Rumald. “She’s sorting through a delivery in the store room. I’m helping by bringing these books to the circulation desk.”

Rumald put the books in his arms onto the counter, angling his head to follow the direction Henry was pointing. With his sneakers squeaking on the polished floor, Henry raced back along the aisle and stopped at the end, waving for Rumald to come, before he dashed through a door. Sauntering after Henry, he obediently followed Henry, scanning his eyes over the book spines he passed on the shelves. At the doorway, Henry had disappeared through, Rumald glanced back to where he had come from and went through the doorway, hearing wisps of voices in the short corridor.

At the end of the short corridor, Rumald found there was another door left open and looked inside, finding Henry bent over a large box. He traipsed into the room, lifting his chin to get an advantage as he spied through the racks of shelving in the store room. From the deeper inside of the store room, Rumald could hear someone else moving around, boxes being moved with a grunt of effort. Walking on his toes, desperate for more height, he tried to spot Belle through the shelving. It was no use, he could not see her, and stopped near Henry, dropping down off his tiptoes, as Henry hefted a pile of books at Rumald.

“Here you go.” Henry passed the pile onto Rumald, who had no choice but to take the heavy books from Henry, fearing they were drop on his toes. “You take those to the desk.”

“But…” Rumald tried to excuse himself, but Henry fiercely shoved him back and pointed to the doorway, saying. “Go! Otherwise, we won’t complete Operation Bookworm before the library closes!”

“Right…” Rumald muttered unsurely, scowling at his grandson, whilst he backed up to the doorway.

Henry shook his head, as he bent over into the box and picked out another stack of books from it. Dropping his eyes to the stack of books in his hands, Rumald pivoted away from Henry and strolled out of the store room, through the small corridor, and delivered the stack of books to the circulation desk. He was baffled at him doing the bidding of a ten-year-old, but went back to the store room to find Henry waiting for him, with another large stack of books in his arms. Eyeing the young boy, Rumald took the pile of books from Henry and walked back out of the room, feeling cheated out of seeing Belle. Rumald shook his head with a small chuckle escaping him, as he went to the circulation desk to drop the books off, reminded of the time Neal was instructing Rumald on how to build a cardboard forte in the living room. He smiled ambling back to store room, fondly picturing the scene with Neal in his head.

As Rumald turned through the doorway, his step halted, his breath escaped from his chest, when he walked into the room to find Belle stood over Henry, pointing to very large sealed box at her feet, telling him. “Just this last box, Henry, but I think I can manage this one on my own.”

“No, Belle.” Henry leaped up, from where he was knelt on the floor, insisting to Belle. “No one gets left behind. We’ll complete Operation Bookworm together!”

“Why you have to make everything an ‘operation’, I’ll never understand.” Belle said to Henry, placing her hand on his shoulder. “But I appreciate the help.”

“It’s okay. Mr Gold’s helping now, too.” Henry commented to Belle, kneeling down to the sealed box to open it, ripping the tape from the box.

Belle had a questioning look on her face, as she looked down at Henry, inclining her head to the side to try and see Henry’s face. “Mr Gold?”

Taking this as his cue to join the conversation, Rumald ambled into the room, clasping his hands behind his back. Belle must have heard his quiet footsteps, because after he had taken two steps, she raised her gaze from Henry to meet his gaze. The slight lines on her forehead disappeared, whilst a smile quickly developed on her face, lighting up her eyes. Seeing her smile at him, made all his worries for the shop, for Jefferson, for Neal, and his own niggling thoughts of insecurities, melt away to nothing. The corners of his own lips, partially turned up to form a smile, as he stepped around Henry to get closer to Belle.

“Hi.” She uttered on a breath.

His hand itched to touch her, to caress her cheek with his fingers, but Rumald resided himself to returning her simple greeting. “Hi.”

“Here.” Henry insisted stated, as he clambered up onto his feet, clutching a pile of books to his chest, and forced them at Rumald.

Stooping in height, Rumald fumbled to take the pile of books from Henry, his eyes wide with panic, trying not to drop the books. With a steady hand on the top of the stack, he glared at the back of Henry’s head, toying with the thought of throwing a book at his grandson. From beside him, Rumald heard the sounds of a smothered laugh and looked at Belle, who was covering her smirk with her hand, her shoulders shook with her laughter. He gave her a pointed look with his lips drawn into a tight line. Belle lowered her hand, unmasking her smile to him, and inclined her head to the side, silently urging him to see the funny side. Rolling his eyes at her, Rumald wandered out of the room, glimpsing back to Belle before he went through the doorway into the small corridor.

Rumald grunted at the weight of the books in his arms, crooking his head to the side, he took a gander at the pile of books. It was a mix assortment of books, from thin fiction novels to large textbooks, the latter explaining the weight. Hefting the pile onto the circulation desk, Rumald slammed his hand on the top of the stack, just in time, saving the tall stack from spilling all over the floor. He broke the stack into three, stacking the two new stacks beside the original stack. About to walk back to the store room, Rumald noticed there were a few books scattered on the floor, on the other side of the counter, and strolled round the counter to pick them up, discarding them to one of the several stacks on the counter.

“Thank you, Henry.” Belle said to Henry in front of her, as the pair came to the other side of the counter.

“Can I help out tomorrow too?” Henry eagerly inquired, while he put the books he carried onto the counter.

She smiled at him, as she unloaded her pile of books to the counter, telling Henry. “Course, you can.”

Henry grinned at Belle and said to her. “I better get going. My grandma’s probably waiting for me at the station.”

“Okay.” Belle placed her hand on Henry’s shoulder, giving it a slight squeeze. “I’ll see you tomorrow.”

“Later, Mr Gold.” Henry said over his shoulder to Rumald, hurrying to the bench in the entryway, where he had left his coat and backpack.

Following his grandson with his eyes, Rumald parted his overcoat and tucked his hand into pocket of his pants, as he placed his other hand on the end of the counter, watching Henry put on his coat. Belle sauntered pass in front of him, giving him a cheeky look as she walked by him, and came around him to head into her office behind Rumald. His eye was caught by Belle and Rumald partial turned, observing the back of her enter her office. Henry slung his backpack onto his shoulder, curiously watching the interaction between Rumald and Belle, as he walked backwards into the library door, opening the door enough for him to slip out of it.

As soon as Henry was gone, Rumald trailed after Belle into her office, touching the door as he entered to open it wider, coming into her office whilst she flicked her hair out of the collar of her coat. Resting his shoulder against the wall, the corners of his lips quirked up at the sight of her, not knowing anything more beautiful than she was.

“Sorry, I wasn’t there this morning.” Belle said to him, her face showing her remorse. “I go for a run in the mornings and I was hoping to be back before you woke up.”

“It’s no bother. I had things to do.” He dismissed her apology, clasping his hands in front of himself.

She wrapped her scarf around her neck, saying to him. “Yeah, Dove said, you were out on business, when I popped over earlier.”

“Had to go and see Marco about a house.” Rumald shared with her, while his eyes descended down her body to her stocking clad legs, studying the perfectly defined curve at the back of her calves.

Belle supported herself with a hand on her desk, whilst she bent over, grabbing the handles of her handbag to pick it up, saying to Rumald as she righted herself. “Do you want to go and get some dinner together?”

“I’d loved to.” He answered immediately, pushing himself away from the wall, as she shifted her feet to face her desk, collecting her things to put into her handbag.

“Good.” Belle grinned at him. “Then I’ve got to go and see Regina.”

“Regina?” He questioned with his eyebrows looming down over his eyes.

She waved her hand through the air, which was holding her phone, explaining to him. “She called me last week, asking if I’d be in her Christmas exhibition.”

“Did she now?” Rumald posed the question to her, raising an eyebrow at her.

Her shoulders raised and fell at him, while she tossed her phone into her handbag and closed her handbag, and then ambled over to him, saying. “Yeah, she’s getting all the dancers together tonight, to discuss whose partnering with who and what dance we’ll be doing.”

Scrutinising her under his gaze, Rumald said to her. “Not sure, I like the idea of you dancing with someone else.”

“You could always come with me and be my partner again.” Belle suggested to him, stood in front of him, her head slanted to the side.

“Hmm…” He murmured with his lips pursed together. “I think,” Rumald paused, raising his hand up to hold his finger up into the air. “Instead of you going to see Regina,” He flicked his finger at her, indicating her as he said. “You should come home with me.”

“Should I…?” She smiled at him.

“Oh, yes.” Rumald persuaded her closer by pulling at the flaps of her coat. “You definitely should.”

Her bag thudded on the floor after Belle dropped it, so she could sling her arms around his neck, asking him. “And what would we be doing at your house?”

“A gentleman never shares those kind of details.” He scolded her, while he wrapped his arms around her, peeping into the gap in her blouse, at the bare skin of her chest underneath. 

“Well, that’s disappointing.” She told him, pouting her lower lip at him.

Leaning his head forward, positioning his mouth close to her right ear, Rumald whispered to her. “But I’m more than willing to show you.”

Retracting his head back, enough so he could see her, Rumald had a sultry smile on his lips as he met her gaze with his eyes. Her chest heaved at his whispered proposition. He unwrapped his right arm from around her and raised his hand to gently touch under her chin, persuading her to raise her chin, allowing him easy access to her lips. Slowly Rumald eased his face closer to hers, listing his head to the side, and leisurely pressed his lips to hers. As he kissed her, Rumald slipped his arm back around her, hauling her closer to his body, wanting to feel all of her at the same time. A small moan came from Belle, as Rumald teased at her lips, nipping and sucking at her lower lip. He smiled, grasping at the back of her coat, whilst Belle cupped her hand to the back of his head, scraping her nails at his scalp.

“Belle? Are you here?” Questioned a male voice.

Belle snatched her lips away from Rumald and went up onto her tiptoes, holding onto the lapels of Rumald’s overcoat for support, while she spied over Rumald’s shoulder into the library. “Dad?”

“I just came…” Rumald uncoiled his arms from around Belle and edged round to see Maurice, stood in the doorway to Belle’s office. “What’s he doing here?”

“What do you want, dad?” Belle ignored her father’s question.

“What’re you doing with Mr Gold?” Maurice glared at Rumald.

Belle stepped forward, putting herself in front of Rumald, forcing her father to look at her. “What do you want, dad?”

Rumald returned Maurice’s glare, easily able to see Belle’s father, even with Belle stood in front of him, as Maurice said to Belle. “I wanted to invite you round for dinner, so we could talk.”

“We talked already. Remember?” Belle pushed back the flaps of her coat, shoving her hands onto her hips as she spoke to her father. “You told me, I had to get back with Gaston, and I told you, over my dead body, and I walked out.”

“Fine, if you don’t want to be Gaston, I’m okay with that. But…” Maurice savagely pointed his finger at Rumald. “I forbid you from seeing him!”

Belle laughed. “Forbid me? What am I? Thirteen?” Shaking her head at her father, she told him. “I’m a grown woman, dad! I can make my own decisions!”

“Do you not know what sort of man he is? The things he does to people! The things he will do to you!” Maurice pleaded with Belle, moving through the doorway towards Belle.

“I’d never do anything to Belle!” Rumald barked at Maurice, gently moving Belle aside to confront her father.

Maurice wore a look of disgust on his face, as he spat at Rumald. “You’ve done enough already! You’ve ruined her!”

“Have I?” Rumald questioned, turning his head to look at Belle and then switched his gaze back to Maurice, throwing at Maurice as he gestured wildly with his hands. “I haven’t made her do anything, she’s not wanted to do! I’ve not traded her future happiness to pay off my debts! And, unlike you, I’ve only encouraged her to go after what she wants, whether that’s with me or someone else, I don’t care! I just want her to be happy!”

“You’ve filled her head with all this nonsense!” Maurice accused, shoving his finger at Rumald.

“Nonsense? Wanting her to be happy, is nonsense?” Rumald’s brow pressed heavily down over his eyes, as he tightly clenched his hands into fists at his sides.

Belle touched Rumald’s shoulder, earning his attention, while his gaze stayed glued to her father, as she said. “Rumald, he’s not worth it.”

“See?” Maurice waved his hand at his daughter. “She’d never say that about me! You’ve brainwashed her!”

“Brainwashed me?” Belle queried her father.

Maurice stepped closer to Belle, reaching out to touch her arm, as he beseeched her. “Belle, you have to believe me! He doesn’t care about you, like Gaston does!” Rumald made a ‘pfft’ sound at Maurice comment. “He’s just told you what you wanted to hear, to turn your head, and once he’s done with you, he’ll only toss you aside like so many before.” Maurice waved his hand, gesturing to the door behind him. “Ask anyone in town, Belle! He uses people and, sadly Belle, you’ve fallen under his spell!”

“I have no intention of using Belle.” There was a sinister tone to Rumald’s voice as he spoke.

“No…” Maurice’s gaze studied his daughter’s face. “I’m afraid, she’s already given you what you wanted. Can’t believe my Belle would be so easily conned, by a beast like you.” He shook his head in disappointment. “Duped into whoring herself to you.”

There was a cry of his name, however Rumald had gladly given himself to his own darkness, breaking the promise to himself, and launched himself at Maurice. Lunging for the bigger man, Rumald shoved Maurice backwards into the library, out of the doorway, purposely striding after Maurice, who stumbled helplessly backwards into the circulation desk. The edge of the counter caught Maurice across his back, sending Maurice down onto his knees. Uselessly, Maurice reached behind him, to nurse the pain in his back, groaning down at the floor. Rumald grabbed Maurice, by the collar of his coat, and yanked him up and onto his feet, briefly catching the look of shock on Maurice’s face, and then threw the heavier man at the counter again.

“Rumald, don’t!” Belle cried behind him, as Rumald positioned himself above Maurice, restraining Belle’s father onto the counter, with a tight grip around his throat, choking the breath out of him.

Seething, Rumald hissed at Maurice. “You should be ashamed of yourself! You’re the one, who treated her like a whore, trading her to Gaston for money!”

There was no response from Maurice, apart from the gurgles of him desperately trying to suck in a breath, his face reddening from the lack of oxygen. Urgently, Maurice clawed at Rumald’s hand, frantic to relieve the pressure around his throat. Seeing the pathetic man underneath him, did not make Rumald feel sorry for him, or remorse for his actions. Rumald’s top lip curled into a snarl, wanting to snuff out the wretched excuse for Belle’s father. Constricting Maurice’s throat, further squeezing his wind pipe, Rumald leant his weight onto right hand, aiding his hand in ending Maurice’s existence. He hated him. Hated Maurice more than he had anyone in his life, including the poor example Rumald had had for a father. Belle deserved better, should have had a father, who put her own needs before their own. Did not use her like an object to be owned.

“Stop!” Belle screamed her plead into Rumald’s ear.

At hearing her plead, Rumald snapped his head to look at her, breaking the spell over him, and became aware of Belle wrenching at his overcoat, attempting to get him off of her father. He turned his gaze back to her father, whose face was turning a deep shade of red. Maurice’s eyes were fluttering, unconscious on the brink of taking him, whilst his eyes began to slowly roll back into his head. Rumald released his grip from Maurice’s throat, and staggered back from Maurice, drawn away by Belle heaving at his shoulders. Maurice slipped off the counter and collapsed into a heap on the floor, and clutched his hand to his throat, wheezing loudly for breath.

“Father!” Belle yelled as she dropped to her knees, assisting her father to sit up.

Rumald stumbled back until he was pressed up the wall to her office, observing them in front of him on the floor. His whole body quivered with his unspent temper. Squeezing his eyes shut, he hung his head low, concentrating on taking in deep breaths and letting them out slowly, soothing his internal cry for retribution. He tried to ignore, how good it felt, how powerful he felt, crushing the life out of Maurice, making him pay for all the wrongs he had done to Belle. If he had not convinced himself, of this morbid ideal of being good, Rumald would have gladly accepted his punishment for killing Maurice, but… To lose Belle, which he may have already done, would be too high of a price for Rumald.

“Are you okay?” She asked her father, inspecting his neck, whilst she softly touched the bright red mark covered his throat.

“I think so.” Maurice croaked out a response.

“Then I want you to leave.” Belle informed him, as she got up from the floor to stand over him.

Maurice titled his head back, gazing up at his daughter, rasping out her name. “Belle?”

“Leave.” She ordered, pointing to the door.

Lifting his head and opening his eyes, Rumald looked up as Maurice scaled up the counter, hauling himself up from the floor, staring daggers across at Rumald. He returned Maurice’s glare with one of his own. Infusing all of his anger and hatred into that one look. Belle stood her ground, her finger pointing strongly at the door, while her father moved his glared to her, wandering pass her to follow the path she had pointed out to him. Her father pressed his hand to the library door, glimpsing back at them, and pushed open the door to leave the library, choosing with that last look to walk away from his daughter. Rumald had seen it before, when his father had given him one last look before getting into his car, abandoning him on the doorstep of his aunts.

As the door to the library closed, Belle spun round and came over to the Rumald, inquiring as she approached him, reaching her hands out to touch him. “Are you okay?”

“Don’t.” He commanded, batting her hands away.

“It’s okay, Rumald.” She encouraged, trying again to touch him.

Rumald caught her hands by her wrists, preventing her hands from making contact with him, as he lowered his head, begging her. “Please don’t touch me.”

“Why?” Belle requested a reason.

“I don’t want to hurt you.” He admitted to her, feeling the thrill of his temper coursing through his veins.

“You’re not going to hurt me, Rumald.” She stated to him and clasped his wrists in her hands, completing the connection between them, provoking him to suck in a deep breath, inflating his chest, and lifted his head to look at her.

The rush of his anger simmered at the calming influence of her touch. Relaxing back against the wall behind him, Rumald slumped in height, bringing him to the perfect eye level with Belle. She showed him a soft smile, tipping her head to the side, as she easily removed her one of her wrists from his hold and laid her hand onto his cheek, caressing his cheek with her thumb. Taking a shuddering breath, he felt another wave of ease run through him, compelling his darkness back into his depths.

“I don’t believe you could ever hurt me.” Belle imparted to him.

Angling his face into her hand, Rumald craved more contact with her, and cupped her hand with his hand, firmly pressing the palm of her hand into his cheek. No one had been able to lull his inner beast, taming the darkness back into the depths of him. Normally, Rumald could only quieten the inner howls of his fury by destroying things, punishing those around him, and releasing his wrath on anyone who crossed him. However, as he looked into Belle’s kind eyes, Rumald did not feel the need to do any of those things, tempered with the simple touch from her.


	41. Chapter 41

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Rumald realises who actually broke into the shop and meets Belle at the dance studio.

Sat at his workbench in the backroom of his shop, Rumald carefully tightened a small screw, locating a small cover plate onto the back of a clock, he had just finished repairing. Using the magnetic head of the screwdriver, he picked up the other small screw from his workbench, and positioned it in the small hole, before he watchfully began to screw it into the hole. Screwed all the way in, Rumald checked the tightness of the previous screw. Happy, he put the small clock onto his workbench, and spun it round to face him, satisfied with his work as the second hand ticked off the seconds.

Getting up from his stool, he crossed the room to large cabinet, sat against the back wall of the backroom, and returned the tools he had been using to their various draws. Rumald closed the cabinet doors, and went over to the kitchenette to make himself a well-deserved drink. While he waited for the kettle to boil, he put his teaspoon of coffee and two of sugar into his mug, along with a dash of milk, and swivelled round, leaning back against the counter. It had been hard to get the confrontation with Belle’s father off his mind. Hearing the things, Maurice had said about Rumald, was fine. Rumald had no problems with what Belle’s father had said about him, because they were true. Anyone else, he would have been using them for his selfish reasons, but Belle… It was different. The way he felt about her, was totally different to the way he had felt about Milah and Cora. Which was probably why, Rumald was having a hard time, letting go of what Maurice had said about Belle.

The kettle boiled behind him, the loud click of the kettle brought him out of his thoughts. Rumald pivoted round and poured the boiling water from the kettle into his mug, stirring the contents together. As he returned the kettle to its stand, Rumald picked up his mug, and took a hesitant sip from his coffee as he walked back to his workbench. He perched himself onto his stool, putting his mug onto the workbench, and moved the clock, he had just repaired, to one side. Reaching for the next clock, he had to repair, Rumald looked to the curtained doorway, hearing the bell over the front door ring.

“Gold?” called a voice.

His shoulders slumped at hearing someone call his name. “Coming.”

Rumald stood up from the stool to walk through into the front, taking his mug of coffee with him. Parting the curtain, he ducked his head through first, confronted by Sheriff Nolan and Emma. He carried on through the curtain and halted on the other side of it, while the curtain flapped close behind him.

Emma held up a folded piece of paper, walking towards him, offering it to him. “Here you go, Mr Gold.”

“What’s this?” Rumald inquired, taking the piece of paper from her.

“It’s the incident report for the break in.” Emma explained to him.

Giving the folded piece of paper a brief look, Rumald tucked it into his back pocket of his pants, asking them. “Do you know, who did it?”

“No, not yet.” Sheriff Nolan told him with his hands on his gun belt, slightly parting his jacket.

Rumald edged to the sideboard on his right, perching himself against it, as he said to them. “Can I even ask, if you’ve questioned Gaston?”

“We did.” Sheriff Nolan answered. “He’s got an alibi.”

Emma gave her father a sly look and then looked at Rumald, mumbling to him from the side of her mouth. “He was with a woman.”

“Course he was.” Rumald commented and drank from his coffee.

“We’ve had no matches, apart from yours and Dove’s.” Emma informed him.

“I did say.” He said to them flippantly.

The Sheriff waved his hands into the air, allowing his leather jacket to close, saying to Rumald, while Rumald drank from his coffee. “You know, we have to go through the motions, Rumald.”

“Yes, of course you do, David.” Rumald emphasised saying the Sheriff’s first name.

Sheriff Nolan gave Rumald a pointed look, while Emma said. “If there had been security cameras pointed in this direction, it would’ve been more helpful to our investigation. But, we’re still interviewing everyone, so hopefully someone might have seen something.”

“I doubt it.” Rumald said to them, lifting his mug to his lips, to drink from it.

“It’s still early days in our investigation.” Emma tried to offer him some reassurance, but received a flat look from Rumald as he lowered his mug.

“We also came by to see, if maybe you found something was missing.” The Sheriff asked, scanning his gaze around the half empty of room. “Maybe a small trinket? Jewellery? Maybe, a statue?”

“Nothing is missing. Things have been broken, but nothing is missing.” Rumald shared with them, clasping his mug in both of his hands.

The Sheriff’s brow hunched over his eyes. “Damn.”

“Dad, we’ve discussed this.” Emma gave her father a pointed look.

“I just can’t believe it would be someone in our town.” Sheriff Nolan confessed.

Refraining from rolling his eyes, Rumald directed his gaze down to the toes of his shoes, as Emma said. “Yes, I know. Everyone in town feels like they’re part of our family, but that doesn’t mean, they’re all innocent.”

“Emma, I’ve known all of them all of my life, all of yours as well.” The Sheriff defended himself.

While Sheriff Nolan and Emma deliberated their extended family tree, Rumald gazed down at the contents of his mug, pondering what they had just been discussing. A lot of the residents of Storybrooke, were literally in each other’s pockets. They either worked together, lived next door, socialised together, or knew someone, who knew someone. The ones, who had moved to Storybrooke, were welcomed into the fold, but stuck out like a sore thumb. Rumald had lived there for nearly twenty-five years. The next outsider was Maurice, who had lived there for about two years. Then, it would be Belle and Gaston, who moved there nearly ten months ago.

Thinking of Gaston and his convenient alibi, lines formed across his forehead, as his thoughts began to shift to Maurice. Rumald glimpsed at the father and daughter, now bickering, while he felt stupid for not thinking of Maurice before, when he had suggested to Sheriff Nolan, who had broken into his shop. It made total sense, for it to have been Maurice, especially with what happened the night previous in the library.

“Yes, but what about those that have moved here?” Rumald asked as he brought his gaze up to meet the Sheriff’s.

“Well… You know, it’s a small town.” Sheriff Nolan explained, gesturing with his hands. “Everyone knows everyone.”

Rumald had a sly smile on his face, as he said. “Which is going to be your problem.”

“Why?” Emma asked with the ends of her eyebrows crooked up.

Gradually, as he spoke, Rumald moved his gaze from the Sheriff to Emma. “Because everyone is going to be united against me.”

“That’s not true.” The Sheriff rejected Rumald’s remark.

“Dad,” Emma lopped her head in her father’s direction, giving him a look. “He’s right.”

Rumald’s ears pricked at the sound of the back door closing, and stepped to the curtained doorway, to pull back the curtain, viewing Dove dragging one of the new counters into the back of the shop. He took his arm away from the curtain, and turned to the Sheriff and Emma. They were facing each other, sharing a look of disagreement, while Rumald finished off the remains of his coffee.

Giving his daughter a sideways look, Sheriff Nolan said to Rumald. “We better get going, Gold.”

“Course.” Rumald clasped his hands in front of himself, the handle of his mug hooked on his finger.

“If you think of anything,” Emma pivoted to face Rumald, extending her hand to him, as she said. “Give us a call or pop by the station.”

“I will.” He told her.

The Sheriff and Emma looked at each other, and then turned their backs to him, to wander away to the front door of the shop. Slowly, Rumald let out a long breath, silently growling to himself at the audacity of Maurice. The urge to kill him was back in full force, and if it had not been for the beautiful woman, working across the street at the library, Rumald would have been plotting Maurice’s demise. The Sheriff and Emma opened the door and left, accompanied by the ring of the bell above the door, whilst Rumald ducked his head down, striving to stay calm. Clutching his mug tightly, Rumald looked at the poor mug in his hands, picturing the helpless object flying across the room and smashing into pieces against the wall.

“Any news?” Dove inquired, protruding his head through the curtain doorway.

Scratching at his beard, Rumald glanced at Dove and then to the front of the shop, seeing the Sheriff and Emma walking by the window. “No.”

“Is it time to visit Mr Phipps?” Dove asked as he parted the curtain and stepped through.

“No.” Rumald answered, angling his head to see Dove over his shoulder. “Seems I was wrong. Gaston has an alibi.”

“Who was it?” Dove posed the question, coming closer to Rumald, to stand beside him.

“Belle’s father.” Rumald was honest with Dove, knowing he could trust him.

Out of the corner of Rumald’s eye, he caught the look, Dove threw at Rumald, and quickly looked away, thinking Rumald had not seen it. Dove knew. He knew what Rumald wanted to do. Probably already had a clear idea in his head, of what Rumald would have wanted him to do Maurice, strategically tormenting Maurice until he was near breaking point. Rumald looked down at his mug again, taunted by his thoughts, well aware he could not act on them. Needing to get away from the conversation, preventing himself from making a wrong choice, Rumald strolled through into the backroom, and went to his workbench, throwing himself back into work.

For the afternoon, Rumald tinkered and fiddled with as many of the projects, he had lying the shelves of his backroom. Time had not been at the forefront of his mind, while he had worked. It was not until Dove had said, he was going home, that Rumald had awoken from his daze. His first thought was to see Belle, so he followed suit with Dove, collected his things together, and they had closed the shop for the night. They parted outside the front door of the shop, with Dove heading north along Main Street, and Rumald trekked south, casually walking to the dance studio to meet with Belle.

Nearing the end of Main Street, Rumald’s gaze went to the florist shop, situated safely on the other side of the street, blazingly daring him to come over to it. His paced slowed as he took in the shop front, noticing the lights in the apartment above were lit, indicating Maurice was upstairs. He stopped on the corner and glared at the lit windows. Tempting fate, Rumald wanted someone, or anything, to give him a plausible reason to go over there, and excuse him from beating the living daylights out of Maurice. The screams of the voice inside of his head, declaring he could not touch Maurice, was the only thing standing between Rumald and his revenge. How he wished, Maurice was not Belle’s father, and had been someone else’s poor excuse for a father. Rumald would have no qualm, and would settle situation like he had done, so many times before. However, being Belle’s only family, and the fact she probably would never forgive him, he held back and restarted on his path to the dance studio. For now, he would stick to his vow to be a good man.

Rumald pulled open the glass door the studio, and was hit with the music and endless chatter, as he stepped into the reception area. The place was alive with people dancing in both studios, on either side of the reception. He inspected every face, of the couples dancing, hoping to spot Belle. Ambling to the reception desk, where Mal was sat as usual, Rumald switched his gaze to the other studio, checking each face, but did not see Belle.

“I didn’t think you’d be gracing us with your presence so soon.” Mal spoke to him, sitting back on her stool.

Rumald flipped his attention to the other studio again, rechecking the faces, as he said. “I’m meeting Belle.”

“She’s upstairs with Regina’s group.” She indicated, which studio, with her finger pointing to Mal’s left.

Rumald nodded his head at her and went to walk around the reception desk, when Mal held up a magazine, offering it to him. “You and Belle were mentioned in the Ballroom Extra.”

“What?” Rumald looked flabbergasted at the magazine.

“Page thirty-two.” She waved the magazine at him. “There’s a little snippet about you and Belle.”

Partly closing his eyes, he split his gaze from the magazine to Mal’s face, as he took the magazine from her. She lifted a curious eyebrow at him. With the magazine in his hands, Rumald flicked to the page, Mal had told him, and searched the two pages, finding a small paragraph about them and picture to accompany it. The paragraph said, ‘ _It was a delight, for those attending the competition, to see Rumald Gold compete, after so many years away from the ballroom circuit. At one time, Rumald and Cora Mills dominated circuit, but after the couple split, Rumald has not competed. His partner, a novice, was Belle French, who shows a lot of promise. According to our source, Belle had only started taking lessons, from Rumald, two months prior to the competition. Being their first competition, dancing together, they easily danced their way into third place. With more practise, we can’t wait to see them next year’_.

Rumald scrunched his brow at the paragraph, and moved his eyes, to look at the picture of him and Belle. They photographer had caught the moment, after Belle had launched herself at him, and Rumald had caught her in his arms, hugging her close, while she had wrapped her arms around his neck, her smile had beamed how much it had meant to her. He could not help himself, as he smiled at their picture, and stroked his thumb across Belle’s cheek in the picture. She looked amazing in the picture, and it left him feeling breathless again, just like it had on that fateful day, not knowing anything more beautiful.

“Belle’s taken a copy for herself.” Mal shared with him, spying at him, from the corner of her eye, while she typed at her computer.

Rumald shut the magazine and placed it down on the counter, asking. “Are they going to be much longer?”

“No, I shouldn’t think so.” Mal squinted her gaze at her computer screen, checking the time in the bottom corner of the screen. “They should be done any minute.”

For a second, Rumald glanced up to the glass wall of the studio D, and then set off to walk by the reception desk, to climb the stairs to studio. Unusually, the door to the studio was closed, muffling the music being played inside. Stepping onto the top step of the stairs, he gradually placed his hand onto the door, ready to push it open, while he watched Belle and her new partner waltz along the wall covered with a mirror. They went passed in front of him, gliding round the corner to dance along the wall of glass, that looked down onto reception area. He scrutinised them, noting the misstep Belle took, because her partner was taking longer strides than she was, and also noted how low, her partner, had placed his hand on her back, encroaching onto her lower back.

He pushed open the glass door, increasing the volume of the music, and stepped into the room, gently guiding the door close behind him, as Regina said in a loud voice. “Let’s try a few twirls!”

Belle’s partner twirled her, whilst Rumald stood by the glass door, clasping his hands in front of him, secretly playing with his ring. His head lopped to the side, and he smiled, noting she did not smile, like she would have done, if she had been dancing with Rumald. He twirled her again, as they passed by in front of Regina, which led Regina to see Rumald across the room. She smiled at him, even though, she had a confused look on her face. Turning her attention to Belle and her partner, whilst they followed the edge of the room, Regina walked over to Rumald, beating the dancing couple to him.

“Trying a new look?” Regina asked, her eyes clearly on his beard.

“Something like that.” Rumald said as his answer, his gaze on Belle and her partner, as they danced by them, performing a twirl in front of them.

It was at this moment, while her partner twirled her, Belle’s eyes met with Rumald’s. For those few seconds, the music faded, and Regina and Belle’s dance partner disappeared. The corners of Belle’s lips curled up into a smile, then her top lip lifted, revealing her trademark smile. His heart thudded in his chest, anxious to feel her touch again, needing the calmness she shared with Rumald. All too soon, Belle was gone. Eager to keep the contact, Rumald pivoted to face Regina, masking his intentions, appearing as though he was talking to Regina, while his gaze was fixed on Belle over Regina’s shoulder.

“I’m not sure, whether I prefer, you with or without a beard.” Regina said thoughtfully, studying his beard.

Rumald looked at Regina and changed the subject of their conversation, by questioning her. “Isn’t it about time your practise ended?”

Regina’s eyes darted to the clock. “Just about.” She returned her gaze to him. “Need me for something?”

“No.” Rumald quickly answered her.

Her lips spread wide, smiling mischievously at him, as she playfully suggested. “Possibly Belle?”

He refused to give her the satisfaction of receiving a pointed look from him. Leaning to her side, Regina tried to invade his line of sight, pushing him for an answer to her question. Rumald glimpsed at her, meeting her gaze, but kept his face neutral. It did not matter though. Regina’s smile was full of glee, as she grabbed hold of Rumald’s arm, hooked her arm around his, and leant into him to kiss his cheek.

As she pulled away from him, Regina whispered into his ear. “I’m so glad, it all worked out.”

Rumald met Regina’s gaze, after she had pulled away from him, and could see in her eyes, what she said was genuine. Sometimes, it was hard to believe, that the young woman with her arm hooked around his, would want him to be happy. Regina had every reason to despise him. First, he had taken her mother away from her father. Then, because of the hours they had spent practising, had taken her mother away from her. Not only had he ruined Neal’s childhood, he had ruined Regina’s as well, taking the chance to have a normal childhood from both of them. Rumald breathed in, completely filling his lungs, and breathed steadily out of his nose, while he looked at Regina beside him. Even though, Regina had limited contact with her father, and even less with her mother, she had grown up to be a successful woman, dancer and businesswoman. Whether Rumald’s influence had helped, was not clear to him, but for his penitence, Rumald had always watched out for her from a distance. He could not have been prouder of her, and of Neal, for achieving so much on their own.

“That’ll do for tonight, guys.” Regina announced.

Dipping his face away from her, when Regina turned her gaze to look at him, Rumald did not want her, to see the regret that haunted him. She tugged at his arm, giving him time to mask his emotions before he turned his head to look at her. Her brow twitched, registering there was something in his eyes, but Rumald diverted his gaze away from her.

“I didn’t think you were going to come.” Belle said to Rumald, coming towards him.

Rumald frowned at her. “Why wouldn’t I?”

Regina slipped her arm from Rumald’s, and went to Belle’s partner, who was collecting his things, while Belle placed her hands on the front of Rumald’s overcoat, saying to him. “Because you’ve been so busy at the shop today.”

“How do you know that?” He asked, with the lines deepening on his forehead.

“You haven’t answered my messages.” was her reply to his question.

Baffled, Rumald parting his overcoat, and slipped his hand into his pants pocket, pulling out his phone to look at it. He touched the button on the side of his phone, waking up the display, to show him he had received eight messages from Belle, missed a phone call and three messages from Jefferson, and several other messages and missed calls.

“I’m so sorry, Belle.” Rumald apologised to her, while he turned his phone on its side in his hand, and saw his phone was in silent mode.

“It’s okay.” She laid her hand on his cheek. “They were only random messages. I was bored.”

He shook his head, returning his phone to his inside pocket. “I would’ve answered. Honestly.”

“Hey.” Belle cupped his face in her hands, staring deep into his eyes. “What’s wrong?”

Hearing her ask, what was wrong, nearly was his undoing. Rumald took hold of her wrists, and lowered her hands down from his face, bracing a smile for her, hiding whatever she had seen in his face. He held her hands close to his chest, as he licked his lips, pondering what they could do with what was left of their evening.

“Do fancy doing anything this evening?” Rumald posed the question to her, letting her decide.

The look she gave him, showed she was not happy with him ignoring her question, but she did not push it, and answered his question. “Dinner would be nice.”

“Where would you like to go?” He asked, while rubbing his thumbs over the back of her hands.

“I don’t want too much fuss.” Belle told him, shaking her head, and said. “Grannies?”

“Whatever you want, sweetheart.” He smiled at her, even though he did not feel it.

The thoughts of ruining his son’s and Regina’s childhoods, were still very much on his mind. Of course, if he shared his thoughts with Belle, she would protest to him, that he had done no such thing, pointing out how well both of them had turned out. And they had. They were both successful in their own right, and they had accomplished it all on their own. But that was it, it would always be a thorn in Rumald’s side, a reminder every day of his life, that he could have done more for them, could have been a better a man. Which was why, Rumald was trying so hard, to be that man for Belle. Trying with all his might, to keep himself from falling back onto old habits. However, with this situation with Maurice, Rumald felt so tired with it already, and wanted so badly, to end Maurice’s pathetic excuse for an existence.

She smiled at him, before she tiptoed up the short distance between them and kissed Rumald, saying as she lowered down off her tiptoes. “I’ll just get my things.”

Her wrists slipped easily from his hold, and he remained where he stood, watching her, while she walked away to her things. Rumald had been hoping, by being with Belle, she would take his mind off her father. He had been wrong. As he watched her, stoop down to collect her things, Rumald was feeling the muscles in his back stiffen, while he thought of all the wrongs, Maurice had done to Belle.

“Thank you again, Will.” Regina said, escorting Will to the door, a hand on the small of his back. “And try not to breath a word of this to my mother.”

Hearing her mention her mother, Rumald looked from Belle to Regina, as she held the door open for Will, her gaze on him, while he descended the stairs. After a couple of seconds, Regina stepped away from the door, and her gaze round and met with Rumald’s. She glanced back down the stairs, walking by the doorway, and came to stand beside Rumald.

“I’ve kidnapped him from my mother.” She explained to him.

Rumald simply nodded his head at her. “She’ll love you even more, when she finds out.”

“She won’t find out.” Regina dismissed his comment by waving her hand at him.

“Really, dearie?” Rumald said, giving her a hard look.

“She won’t find out.” Regina repeated herself, reaffirming what she had already said.

He clasped his hands in front of him, as he imparted to her. “You know, as well as I do, your mother will know, that you’ve ‘borrowed’ one of her dancers. She’ll have her claws into everyone.”

She shook her head at him. “Will’s not going to say anything.”

“Yes, dearie.” Rumald had a sly smile on his face.

Regina screwed up her face at him, telling him. “I’ve known Will a long time. He wouldn’t tell my mother. He detests her as much as we do.”

“Then why is he still associated with her studio?” Rumald asked.

“Who?” Belle questioned, as she ambled over to them, flicking her hair out from the collar of her coat.

Rolling her eyes, Regina answered both of their questions. “Will’s girlfriend works for my mother at her studio. They don’t have much choice.”

“Why don’t you give her a job?” Belle inquired, causing Rumald’s smile to widen.

“I can’t afford to and I don’t need anyone else at the moment.” Regina shrugged her shoulders at her, and held her hands up into the air.

Rumald hooked his arm around Belle’s back, and gently began pushing her towards the doorway, putting her between Rumald and Regina, as Rumald said to Regina. “I guarantee, your mother knows, that you’re borrowing Will from her.”

Following Belle through the doorway, Rumald heard Regina say behind him. “She never found out about you teaching me.”

“I wouldn’t be so sure about that.” Rumald commented over his shoulder.

“Why?” Regina asked, following them down the stairs.

On the small landing, Rumald stopped, turned and faced Regina as she came down the stairs, saying to her. “The Cora I knew,” Rumald laid his hand on his chest, and then gestured to Regina with his finger. “Would have known exactly what you were doing, every minute, of every day.”

“She never knew what I was doing.” Regina dismissed his comment and said.

“Really?” Rumald put to her.

“Yeah, course she didn’t.” Regina looked unsure as she said it, and then asked. “Why do you think otherwise?”

Rumald breathed in, remembering back all those years, to when he was with a Cora, and told Regina. “Because she always knew what I was doing. So, if she knew what I was doing, she’d know what you were doing.”

Regina scowled at him. “Why would she need to keep tabs on you? You were devoted to her.”

“Your mother likes to control all the pieces on the board.” Rumald paused with several memories coming to mind, and shook his head at Regina. “Just don’t be so naïve, Regina. She’ll know.”

“Okay.” Regina scowl turned into a deep frown, as she placed her hand on Rumald’s shoulder, and said to him. “Thank you.”

Looking down the stairs to Belle, Rumald pursed his lips together before turning his attention back to Regina. “I’m only telling you this, for your own good.”

“I know.” She smiled softly at him, as Regina gave his shoulder a reassuring squeeze.

“If you want some advice,” Rumald started down the next set of stairs to Belle. “Get a replacement.”

“You could…” Regina let her words trail off.

He halted near the bottom step, and twisted to see Regina on the small landing, cheekily smiling at him. Carrying on down the stairs, Rumald shook his head at her, from side to side. There was a temptation to say yes, as he joined Belle at the bottom of the stairs, her face was lit with her eagerness for him to do it. Dancing with her, was the most thrilling thing, he had ever done. In all his years of dancing, and the partners he had had over the years, Belle was the one, who was most Intune with him. However, if he started going back on his word now, to never dance again, Maurice’s chance of survival looked slim.

As Rumald walked by Belle, he put his arm around her, guiding her to the entrance, with a glance back at Regina, who was descending the stairs. Turning his head back, he found Belle gazing at him, a hopeful glint in her eye. He could have laughed at the situation. Nobody ever wanted Rumald to be involved in anything. Normally, the only pleading looks he got, were from tenants, or people owing him money, begging him for more time. Now he had two women, both of whom he had a soft spot for, pleading with him to dance with Belle.

At the entrance, Rumald scooped to the side and opened the door for Belle, looking back to see Regina stood with Mal, discussing something on the reception desk. He trailed Belle through the doorway, turning up the collar of his overcoat, when he was outside, feeling the night chill in the air. Belle stood a couple of feet away from the door, waiting for him, and hooked her arm around his, when he was close enough.

“It’s only one dance, Rumald.” Belle tried to reason with him.

Rumald scoffed at her. “Then another one, and another one.”

She angled her head to look at him, as they walked to the kerb. “Are never going to dance with me again?”

“No, course I’ll dance with you.” He answered her, while they stepped off the kerb together, placing his hand on top of hers, hooked around his arm. “I just don’t want to get caught up in it all again.”

“Rumald,” She eyed him, like a mother would eye their child, who was doing something wrong. “It’s one dance.”

“Yes, but this is what you don’t understand. Ballroom…” Rumald choose his words wisely, whilst they stepped onto the other sidewalk, after walking across the street. “I know, it sounds stupid, but… It’s addictive to me.”

Belle’s eyebrow lifted curiously at him. “Addictive?”

Pulling her to a stop, he slipped his arm from her hold, capturing her hand as he did it, and held her hand, while he explained his meaning. “The rush I get, from when I dance and from when I compete, there’s nothing like it. I needed that so much, when I was younger, so I could feel… better about myself.” What he was about to share with her, made him stop and think for a second, as being open about his past was never easy for Rumald. “I was abandoned by my father.”

The look on Belle’s face, made him cast his gaze down at the ground. “Feeling good about myself, is not something that comes easy to me. But… When I dance and when I win,” As he looked up from a ground to Belle, a ghost of a smile spread his lips. “There’s no better feeling.”

“You’re scared, you’ll what? Going to relapse?” She questioned him.

“It took me losing everything, to realise I was letting dance control my life. I don’t want it happening again.” Rumald raised his hand to brush his thumb over her cheek. “I don’t want to lose everything again.”

She grabbed his hand from her face, and held both his hands together, insisting to him. “You’re not going to lose anything, Rumald. You’re a different man now.”

“No, I’m not.” He threw his gaze away from her.

Quickly taking a hold of his face, with both of her hands, Belle brought his gaze back to her and said to him. “All I’ve ever seen, is good in you, Rumald.”

Rumald laughed. “I think everyone in Storybrooke, especially your father, would disagree with you.”

“I don’t care what they think.” She tightened her hold on his face, as she told him. “They don’t know you, like I do.”

He smiled at her, loving that she ignored the populace opinion about him. Latching onto the front of her coat, Rumald eased her closer to him, as he leaned into her and kissed her. Belle smiled against his lips, while she kissed him back. He let go of her coat, and wrapped his arms around her, liking the fact he was able to do this. Kissing her wherever, whenever, he wanted. Rumald thought to himself, that life could not get any better for him.


	42. Chapter 42

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Rumald flies back from New York to surprise Belle.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Song:  
> Why Don’t We – Fallin’ (Adrenaline)

Throwing the Cadillac into his driveway, Rumald pulled to a stop behind his son’s car and put his car into park. He relaxed back into his seat, as he turned off the ignition, killing the engine, and plunged the car into darkness. After a second, the interior light illuminated above Rumald’s head, while he lulled his head back against the headrest of his seat. Tired was an understatement. He had been in New York since Thursday morning, and had done a late night with Jefferson, helping him to organise the upstairs space, to be the dressing and viewing area. Why they had chosen, to move the large furniture around after the help had gone, Rumald had no clue. The ‘it’ll only take five minutes’ promise, from Jefferson, had become an hour and a half of lugging things around and holding things up, while Jefferson secured them into place. To then, be back at the new shop for seven o’clock, helping to get the stock out on display and get things ready for the grand opening. All Rumald wanted to do, was sleep. Instead, he had travelled back to Storybrooke, wanting to surprise Belle, whisking her away to join him for the opening in New York.

At the time, when Rumald had conjured up his little plan, he had never imagined, he would have been so tired. He angled his head to see his house, through the front windscreen, picturing his warm, comfortable bed, covers rolled back, patiently waiting for him to crawl into bed. The left side of his mouth curled into a smile, fantasying about dragging Belle into his bed, instead of to New York. Rumald was sure, she would not have minded.

Rumald lifted his head off the headrest, and pulled the key out of the ignition, whilst he pulled at the door handle to open his car door. The cold swarmed into his car, bundling him and the warmth out of his car. Feeling the chill, even in his overcoat, Rumald pushed his car door close and walked to the back to the back of the car, opened the trunk to collect his carryon bag, and traipsed up to the house. As he crossed the front of the house, yawning into the palm of his hand, he could see that Neal had every light on in the house. Rumald shook his head, unable to remember how many times, he had told Neal about leaving all the lights on in the house.

Pushing down the door handle, Rumald walked the door open and closed it, as soon as he was in the house. He dropped his carryon bag by the stairs, while he shook off an arm of his overcoat and then the other, and hung his coat up on the peg. The smell of the food enticed him to look towards the kitchen. As he worked the knot of his tie down from his neck, loosening his tie, Rumald wandered to the archway to the kitchen, finding Neal and Emma sat at the breakfast table, on the furthest side of the room. They looked to be having dinner, with plates in front of the both of them, an open bottle of wine, two large bowls and a plate of bread on the table. Rumald pulled his tie from his shirt collar and undid the button of his collar, as the pair spared a moment and looked across the room to Rumald.

“Hey dad.” Neal greeted, while Emma looked sheepish.

“Evening.” Rumald said to them, eyeing their dinner, while he continued to unbutton his shirt.

Neal pointed his fork at his father. “I thought you said, you were going to be in New York for Jefferson’s opening.”

“I will be,” Rumald stopped unbuttoning his shirt at the top of his waistcoat. “But I came back to surprise Belle and take her back to New York with me.” Pointing his finger at them, he asked. “What’s this all about?”

“Emma’s parents were able to babysit Henry, so I said I would cook.” Neal proclaimed, smiling from ear to ear, as he touched Emma’s hand resting on the table.

Emma returned Neal’s smile. “Gives us a chance to talk.”

“I bet.” Rumald said with his eye on Emma.

Slowly, Emma turned her attention to Rumald, as Neal said. “There’s plenty of food, dad, if you want some before you go out?”

“No, no. Thank you, son. I ate at the airport.” Rumald waved off his son’s offer. “I’m going to go up and change.

Neatly folding his tie in his hands, Rumald lingered briefly, observing his son and Emma, whilst they returned to their previous conversation. He vaguely remembered seeing them together, when they were younger. They had been part of the same group – Neal, Regina, Emma, Ruby and various other kids from Storybrooke. But they had been the main culprits of their group, always up to mischief.

Bowing his head, to look at his tie in his hands, Rumald started towards the stairs in the foyer, hearing their happy chatter behind him. He began to unbutton his waistcoat, as he stepped onto the first step of the stairs, his thoughts preoccupied with Neal, knowing exactly what Emma had meant by ‘chance to chat’. On the small landing, Rumald stopped, peering back down the stairs, to look in the direction of the kitchen. His son had a right to know, even if it was going to turn his son’s world upside down. The news could not come from his father though. Rumald knew, if Neal and Emma stood a chance of being together, the truth had to come from her and no one else.

He pursed his lips into a tight line, and then set up the next set of stairs, heading straight to his bedroom, when he had climbed them. Once inside his room, Rumald stripped off his clothes, laying his suit onto the back of the armchair, in the corner of his room, and threw his shirt and other clothes into the hamper. Putting his thoughts of Neal to one side, he concentrated on his main reason, for coming back to Storybrooke, and went into the bathroom to turn on the shower. While he waited, Rumald studied his beard in the mirror, stroking his fingers down the right side of his face. He toyed with the idea of shaving it off, but instead, due to time constraints, quickly trimmed it with a pair of scissors, and jumped into the shower afterwards.

Rumald fastened the button below his shirt collar, leaving his shirt collar undone, and tucked the tails of his shirt into his jeans. Whilst he crossed to sit on his side of the bed, he slid his belt through the belt buckled and snuggly fixed it into the position. Sat on the bed, he glanced at his bedside table clock, while he bent over to pick up one of his shoes. The clock read twenty to seven, meaning Belle’s session with Regina was nearly over. If he timed it right, he could be there to meet her, as she came out of the dance studio. Smirking at his plan, Rumald put on his other shoe and stood up from the bed, and went to the chest of draws, to collect his phone, money clip and wallet.

As he came out of his bedroom, Rumald could hear the music they playing downstairs, and frowned at what they were playing, trying to remember the name of the song. He tugged at the ends of his cuffs, while he descended the stairs, snooping over the banister to the foyer below. Self-conscious, he smoothed his hands down the front of his shirt, already missing the familiar protection of his three-piece suit. At the bottom of the final staircase, Rumald dropped his hands down from his chest, and secretly fought with the urge, to go back upstairs and change. He reached his arm out, collecting his overcoat from its peg, seeing his son and Emma in the kitchen, sharing the chore of cleaning the kitchen and their dishes, both smiling and laughing together. Rumald openly watched them, as he slipped his arms into his overcoat and shrugged himself into the warmth of his coat.

“Neal, I’m going.” Rumald called through, straightening his overcoat.

“Oh, okay.” Neal leaned over the kitchen island, to see his father in the foyer.

Pointing a finger to the ceiling, as he turned to leave, Rumald reminded his son. “Turn the lights off, son. It’s like Blackpool illuminations.”

“Blackpool illuminations?” Rumald heard Emma questioned in the kitchen.

“Don’t worry about it.” Neal said to Emma, while Rumald opened the front door and left.

Closing the flaps of his overcoat, Rumald quickly jogged down the steps of the front porch, across the front lawn, and jumped into his car, checking the time on his wrist. He grimaced at the time, with the hour hand edging closer to the seven. The Cadillac roared to life on the first turn of the engine, and eagerly jumped into gear, allowing Rumald to quickly reverse out of the drive. He shifted the gear lever into drive before accelerating, hastily, away from his house.

The Cadillac lurched to a stop in the parking space, Rumald had driven the car into, before he turned off the engine, exiting the car at the same time. Warding the cold away, by closing the flaps of his overcoat, Rumald dashed from the Cadillac to the front door of the dance studio, and yanked open the door, seeking refuge in the warmth. Regina and Mal were sat on the small couch, positioned near the door, going over some papers, scattered over the floor at their feet. They both raised their gaze to him, while he angled his head to look at the studios above, looking for any other signs of life.

“Belle here?” He asked them, sweeping his gaze over the downstairs studios.

Mal gestured to the door, wafting a piece of paper in her hand. “She left a few minutes ago with Ruby.”

“Thank you.” Rumald said absently to her, and turned to push the door open, but stopped.

It struck him as odd, that Regina had not said anything to him. Pivoting back to face them, he lowered his gaze to Regina, to see her holding her forehead in her hand, her elbow perched on her knee, holding up her head. She had a piece of paper laid in her lap, which she seemed to be staring at, as Rumald looked at her. Taking a step closer, Rumald scrutinised her further, glimpsing briefly to Mal, who wore a similar look to Regina.

“What’s wrong?” Rumald asked, getting straight to the point.

Regina lifted her head from the cradle of her hand, and raised her eyes to meet his gaze. “Nothing. It’s not your problem.”

“Not my problem?” He repeated coming closer. “That just serves to intrigue me. What’s going on?”

“I’ve got a venue problem.” Regina told him, whilst picking up the piece of paper on her lap and flapping it in the air.

“Like what?” Rumald held his hand out to her.

She stood, offering the piece of paper to him, as she said. “I had booked the town hall, paid deposit and had arrangements in place, for lighting and using some rooms as changing rooms.” Rumald took the piece of paper and started to read it, as Regina continued. “The mayor rung me this morning, to tell me, there had been a clerical mistake and he’s got to cancel our booking. I’ve sold enough tickets to fill the hall. The country club is fully booked.” While she went through her list, Regina waved her hands. “The theatre has a play on. The school won’t let me use their hall or the gym.”

“So, you’re running out of options?” Rumald surmised, running down list of venues she had given him, majority of them were crossed out.

“I’ll have to cancel.” Regina grabbed at her hair, exasperated by the situation.

Holding his hand up to her, Rumald turned his attention to Regina. “Let’s not get jumping to conclusions.” He folded the piece of paper up and slid it into his pocket. “Go home. Have a large stiff drink and try to relax. I’ll call you tomorrow.”

“That’s easy for you to say.” Regina dropped her hand down from her head.

Trying his best to reassure her, he smiled and took a hold of her by her upper arms. “Regina, go home and relax. Give me the night to look into it.”

“Okay.” She told him before stepping into him, forcing him to embrace her. “Thank you, Rumald.”

“Don’t hold your breath, dearie.” Rumald advised her.

“I just appreciate you offering to help.” Regina shared with him, as she leaned back from him and out of his embrace. “It’s not like I can go to my mother.”

“Don’t do that, whatever you do.” He insisted, pointing his finger at her.

Mal said, whilst she was picking up some of the papers from the floor. “I’ve been trying to tell her, that we’ll sort something out.”

Rumald touched his hand to Regina’s face, encouraging her to meet his gaze. “We’ll sort this, I promise.”

“Okay.” Regina let a glimmer of a smile, grace her lips, for a couple of seconds, and then motioned to the door. “I think I heard Ruby saying something about the Rabbit Hole.”

“Thank you.” He told her, showing her a smile.

Bidding them both a goodnight, Rumald scooted out of the door, and hurried away from the dance studio to the Rabbit Hole. He delved his hands into the pockets of his overcoat, feeling the cold nip at his hands, and held the flaps of his overcoat closed with his hands in his pockets. The evenings were certainly getting colder. Glancing up to the night sky, Rumald could see it was clear night, with the stars twinkling brightly overhead.

The bouncer stood on the door, was wrapped up against the elements, giving everyone who passed him, to enter the bar, a hateful look. Rumald did not envy him, as he ducked through the door, closely following behind a couple, who both glanced round with a look of fright on their faces. His smirk at their reaction, was not something Rumald could control, nor did he want to. It never got old, to see the fear, his presence or his name could invoke in people. They hastily whispered to one another, and hurried deep into the bar, once they were through the door, needing to get as far as they could from Rumald. The door closed behind Rumald, while he watched the couple flee in fear, disappearing into the busy crowd of the bar.

After losing the couple in the crowd, Rumald gazed round the rest of the bar, whilst he moved away from the door and towards the bar. Just like the other occasions, Rumald had visited the loathsome bar, the bar was heaving with people. Parting his overcoat, to slid his hand into the pocket of his jeans, he was bemused as to why any of them would frequent the bar so often. Sure, it had its charm when it first opened, over twenty years ago, but much of the décor was from when it originally opened. The owner, Keith Nottingham, sucked all of the profit out of the place, pocketing the majority of it for himself. The idea of reinvesting in his own bar was a joke to Keith. But, Rumald could not complain, the man paid the rent on time and never quibbled. Probably one of the few, who did not give Rumald problems and had learnt a long time ago, to stay on the good side of Rumald.

Taking out his money clip from his pocket, his gaze wandered the faces in the bar, hoping to spot Belle before she saw him. Rumald pulled a ten-dollar bill from the clip, and returned it to his pocket, while he waited behind a few people at the bar. They were chatting happily in front of him, waiting for the bartender, to bring them their order. Rumald clasped his hands together, in front of him, and rocked slightly on the balls of his feet. One of the group noticed Rumald, evident from their eyes widening and the insistent tug at his other friend’s arm.

“Guys, it’s Mr Gold.” They urgently told their friends, who were now crooking their necks to see, who had startled their friend.

The girl of the three, grabbed her drink and moved aside, dragging her friend, who had originally noticed Rumald, with her. The remaining friend swallowed nervously, edging along the bar, giving Rumald space at the bar. Rumald squinted his gaze at them, turning his attention to each of them, whilst he claimed the space at the bar, they had relinquished to him. Angling his head to see the remaining friend beside him, Rumald placed his hands onto the edge of the bar, and showed the nervous guy, beside him, a sly smile. The nervous guy quickly threw his gaze to the other side of the bar, avoiding Rumald, while the bartender came over to where they stood and placed a glass of beer on the bar, in front of the guy beside Rumald. A quick glance at Rumald, and the guy quickly collected his pint and left. His friends speedily followed him, leaving Rumald at the bar, further amused by people’s reaction to him.

“What can I get you, Mr Gold?” The bartender asked.

Rumald held his money out to the bartender, telling him his order. “Bottle of Budweiser.”

The bartender took the money, as he asked. “No whiskey?”

“Not that piss water you call whiskey, no.” Rumald dismissed the bartender with his hand.

The bartender’s brow scrunched up at Rumald, and then his gaze went to the ten-dollar bill in his hand, that he had taken from Rumald. He shrugged his shoulders before he walked away, to collect Rumald’s bottle of Budweiser and returned with the bottle and Rumald’s change. Taking both from the bartender, Rumald left a tip for the bartender on the bar, and swigged from his beer, as he wandered away from the bar.

Strolling through the occupied tables, Rumald kept an eye out for Belle, heading to a less populated area of the bar, where he had seen an empty booth. When he reached the booth, he spared a moment to glance back over the bar, where he had come from, before he sat down into the booth, taking one of the bench seats. Rumald slipped his hand into his left pocket of his jeans, bringing out his phone to unlock it. With his thumb, he selected his messages, while sipping from his beer, for his messages with Belle to load onto the screen. Their last messages had been while he had been grabbing a quick bite to eat at the airport. A white lie of ‘ _I’ll message you, once we’re done with dinner_ ’, making Belle think, he had gone out for dinner with Jefferson and Grace.

He placed his beer onto the table, and typed out a message to Belle, to send to her. ‘ _I hope you’re evening is going better than mine.’_

Laying his phone onto the edge of the table, Rumald lifted his gaze, casting his view out over the faces. There were not many places, Belle could have been, but evidently, she was hidden well enough from his view. The urge to find her was starting to win out, over wanting to surprise her.

His phone buzzed and beeped on the table. Picking it up, he swiped the screen to read the message. ‘ _Are you not with Jefferson and his daughter?’._

‘ _No, I left them some time ago. I’m just sitting here on my own in this bar.’_ He replied, typing his message out with both of his thumbs.

Her reply was nearly instant. ‘ _Well, I’m sat here listening to the girls’ moan about their partners.’_

Raising a curious eyebrow, Rumald typed back to her. ‘ _Have you had much to moan about?’_

‘ _Only that you’re not here and you’re in New York.’_ Belle sent back to him, ending her message with a sad emoji face.

‘ _It won’t be for long, sweetheart.’_ He smiled, as he sent back his quick reply.

She instantly replied. ‘ _Sunday is a long time away.’_

Rumald glanced up from his phone, a broad smile on his face, but sat up straighter, when his gaze happened upon Ruby and another woman stood at the bar together. The two looked very cosy, with Ruby’s arm draped over the other woman’s shoulders, whispering into her ear. There was nothing wrong with what he saw, two people who looked to be very interested in one another, or dare he think, infatuated. However, seeing Ruby with the other woman, did make Rumald pause a moment, as he had only ever seen Ruby with men in the past.

Tearing his gaze away from Ruby and her friend, Rumald sent a reply back to Belle. ‘ _It’ll fly by, assure you.’_

‘ _It better. I had been hoping to spend the weekend with you. But I understand work comes first.’_ Her reply touched him, swelling his heart.

‘ _Not at all, sweetheart. You are my sole priority.’_ He typed out slowly, using his right thumb, while he drank from his bottle of beer.

Rumald was returning his bottle to the table, when she replied. ‘ _I love the sentiment, but I understand. I’m used to it.’_

After reading her reply, Rumald huffed out a deep breath, while he considered finding Maurice, so he could finish what he had started on Tuesday night. Without thinking about it, his gaze drifted back to where he had seen Ruby and her friend, and smiled broadly at seeing Belle stood beside the other woman, her phone held in her hand, as she leant against the bar, talking to Ruby and the other woman. The three of them were smiling at each other, blissfully unaware of his prying eyes.

Belle was wearing a blue dress, similar to the one she had worn the night she had come over to his house, wanting to apologise for Gaston hitting him. He was thankful that no one was stood next to Belle, blocking the view of her lovely legs. His tongue dipped out of his mouth, licking at his top lip, anticipating she was wearing her high heels. An unsatisfied groan escaped him. He hungered for her in so many ways – to touch, to taste, to feel, to be closer to her, to talk to her. Rumald wanted all of that and more. Though, the sensation did scare him, because he had never wanted a woman as much as he wanted her.

He dropped his gaze to his phone, though peeped up from time to time, checking Belle was still stood with Ruby and her friend. ‘ _I wouldn’t be so sure, if I was you.’_

Watching her, Belle physically jolted, when her phone vibrated in her hand, and smiled as she read his message. She leaned her elbows onto the bar, typing out her message with both her thumbs. His phone beeped and vibrated in his left hand.

‘ _Well, I guess I’ll see then.’_ She put a smiley emoji and carried on with her message. ‘ _What are you going to do with your evening? Sit in the bar all night?’_

‘ _Depends…’_ He sent back to her, quickly looking over to see a confused look on her face.

‘ _Depends…?’_ Belle sent back to him, and laid her phone on the bar, so she could retrieve her drink from the collection of drinks, the bartender had delivered to Ruby.

Rumald flexed his shoulders and typed. ‘ _I’ve been watching this beautiful woman at the bar.’_

She was saying something to Ruby and the woman, who both were smiling and looking at Belle’s phone, as Belle picked it up off the bar to read his message, while also taking a sip from her drink. At reading his message, Belle spat out her drink, spraying the counter of the bar. Rumald smirked. The woman, beside Belle, was on hand to pat Belle on the back, holding onto Belle’s arm to steady her. Ruby was scowling at Belle. Lifting his drink to his lips, he drank from it, while watching Belle pass her phone to Ruby. The bartender came over to them, offering paper towels, whilst he moped up the mess on the counter with the wad of paper towels in his hand. Belle waved off the woman, who was supporting her, and looked to be profusely apologising to the bartender. Swallowing his drink, Rumald squinted his gaze at Ruby, whilst Ruby furiously motioned to Belle’s phone, telling her something, as she gave it back to Belle. There was a confident nod of her head, and Belle typed out her reply.

His phone beeped and vibrated seconds later. _‘I’ve just been telling you, how I’d rather be with you right now. And you’re looking at another woman?’_

 _‘Technically, I’m eyeing three women, but the one with brown hair, beautiful blue eyes, wearing a blue sequin dress, and an accent you soon wouldn’t forget, has definitely caught my eye.’_ He sent his reply, laid his phone on the table, and casted his gaze over to where they were huddled at the bar, looking at Belle’s phone.

Ruby was the first to look away from Belle’s phone, while the other two studied his message. Angling herself, to see pass the woman, stood between Ruby and Belle, Ruby looked at Belle with a frown on her face. The unknown woman and Belle, both looked at each other before Belle pointed her finger in turn to each of them, and then motioned to her dress. Ruby had already gotten to this reasoning and was scouring the bar with her gaze. Though Belle looked confused, she was grinning, from ear to ear, whilst she hunched over her phone, typing back to him.

A second later, his phone beeped and vibrated on the table. ‘ _OMG, are you here?’_

 _‘Would it make your night, if I was there?’_ Rumald replied to her, aware Ruby’s gaze was closing in on him.

As she answered his message, there was a solemn look on her face. ‘ _It would be the highlight of my week.’_

Rumald got up from the bench seat, collected his beer, pocketed his phone, and sauntered through crowded tables, to join her at the bar. At about the halfway point, Ruby spotted him and rapidly tapped at Belle shoulder, directing Belle to look where she had seen Rumald. Belle’s gaze darted everywhere, but at him at first, blinded to the obvious. Her eyes finally stopped on him and she smiled. Not her usual smile, not even the full blown smile that made Rumald weak at his knees. No, this smile was one, Rumald had never seen before. One, he suspected, was kept in reserve for special occasions.

“I can’t believe, you’re here!” Belle gushed at him, whilst she darted to greet him, slamming herself into his chest, and threw her arms around his neck.

Rumald smiled at her reaction, and encircled his arms around her, telling her. “I wanted to surprise you.”

Her hand touched the back of his head, combing her fingers through his hair, as she said. “You certainly did.”

“I especially love it, when you spat your drink everywhere.” Rumald teased.

Belle leant back from him, and smack her hand against his chest. “That wasn’t funny!”

“It was, from where I was sitting.” He informed her, hooking his thumb to where he had come from.

The glare she gave him, made Rumald chuckle, while she told him about it. “I was mortified! Jake came over with all these paper towels. Everyone was looking at me!”

Brushing the backs of his fingers against her cheek, he said to her. “You’re so beautiful.”

“Don’t try and charm your way out this.” Belle warned him, pointing her finger in his face.

“Oh, I don’t need to charm you, sweetheart.” He wrapped his right arm back around her, holding her securely in his embrace. “Not with what I have planned for you this weekend.”

“Planned?” She asked.

Rumald licked his lips, squinting his gaze at her, before he revealed his plan to her. “How about being my date to Jefferson’s grand opening?”

“In New York?” Belle looked shocked.

His eyebrow lifted at her. “Is he holding one somewhere else?”

“No, I…” She laughed nervously. “I just… It didn’t occur to me, that you would want me there, as its business.”

“Belle, I want you with me, every minute of every day.” Rumald shared with her.

Her expression softened at his omission, and smiled at him, as her hands moved to cup his face. “I love you.”

Encouraging his face closer, with her hands holding his face, Rumald titled his head to the side and let her kiss him. He was aware that the nearby chatter had stopped. They probably had an audience of eyes, staring at them, alarmed that Belle French was kissing the notorious Mr Gold. Rumald could not care. He lavished the attention, Belle was giving him, and returned her kiss.

She caressed her thumb across his cheek, as Belle broke their kiss and said to him. “Come on, let’s go join the girls.”

“Whatever you want.” He gestured for her to lead the way.

Grinning at him, Belle took possession of his right hand and towed him by the bar, taking him to where the girls had claimed their table for the night. While they strolled through the bar, hand in hand, Rumald saw all the eyes on them, the questioning looks, with the curious whispers hushed by under the din of the music. He met some of their gazes, forcing them to look away. Belle seemed to be oblivious to the looks they were getting. He was thankful for this, but loathed the fact, that she was getting this undue attention because of him.

Belle looked back at him, still smiling, and tugged him to quicken his step, bringing him side by side with her, as they approached the girls. The group were deep in conversation, unaware of their approach, but Rumald could hear bits of their conversation as they got nearer.

Ariel held her drink up, ready to take a drink from it, while she said. “He doesn’t seem too bad. Gave me a nice tip the other day.”

“Small gestures of kindness, do not make up for the other things that man has done.” Abigail proclaimed to them, tapping her finger on the table.

“Does it matter, how he treats everyone else? As long as he’s good to her?” The unknown woman asked the group.

“Apart from the rent being late, I’ve never had a problem with him.” Ruby stated and then added. “And I’ve never seen Belle happier. So, what does it matter?”

Before announcing their arrival, Belle sheepishly glanced at Rumald, a hint of redness in her cheeks from embarrassment. “Hey girls.”

There was a unanimous chorus of “Hey.”

They all shared a guilty look with the other occupants of their table. Rumald stood beside Belle, holding onto her hand, while he eyed each of them. What they thought about him, or anyone else for that matter, was of no consequence to him. Their approval was not needed. However, they were friends with Belle, which meant, Rumald had to be on his best behaviour with them. 

Ruby waved her hand at Ariel and Abigail. “Move up. Make some room for them.”

Ariel happily shifted herself closer to the wall, moving her handbag to sit on the floor, by her feet, while Abigail gave Ruby a look across the table. Gesturing with her hand, Ruby encouraged Abigail to move, as she and woman beside did the same, scooting closer to the wall, making enough space for one person to sit on the end of the bench. Reluctantly, Abigail huffed and bounced herself closer to Ariel, mimicking Ariel, by putting her bag down by her feet. Belle sat down in the space Abigail had made, as Ruby moved a drink from her side of the table, to sit in front of Belle.

“I bought your drink back to the table.” Ruby explained, slinging her arm around the woman beside her.

“Oh, thank you.” Belle claimed her drink, sliding it closer. “I totally forgot about it.”

Rumald remained standing, holding his bottle of beer, feeling uncertain about joining Belle and her friends. Social gatherings had never really been Rumald’s strong suit. Because of his father’s reputation and his own stigmata, he had not been invited to many parties and such, or socialised much outside of a dance studio. Most of the women, he had dated when he was younger, he had met through his local dance studio. It was how he had met Milah, her class had been using the studio before Rumald and his dance partner at the time had a practise session. Her confidence had captured his attention, though her technique was lacking. After a few weeks of bumping into one another, after her dance class, Rumald had asked her out for a drink and things had snowballed from there. She had been the one, to introduce him to aspect of going out and socialising, even though, it had never really been of interest to Rumald. Socialising had only become useful to Rumald, when he had been wooing clients and prospective buyers.

“You can sit next to Dorothy, Mr Gold.” Ruby indicated the spot next to woman beside Ruby. “She doesn’t bite… Much.”

“Ruby!” Dorothy playfully slapped Ruby’s thigh.

Rumald gave Dorothy a weary smile, as he sat down next to her and placed his bottle on the table, saying. “Just as long as your bark, is not as bad as Ruby’s, we’ll be fine.”

Dorothy smirked at Ruby. “No, it’s not as bad as hers.”

“I don’t know what you mean.” Ruby feigned her innocence, but the smirk on her face gave her away.

“Your mouth only serves to get you into trouble with Grannie.” Belle commented after taking a sip from her drink.

Rumald smiled, reminded of the times he had heard Grannie and Ruby in the kitchen, arguing with a diner full of customers. The pair were like water and oil, but God help anyone, who upset either one of them. As fiercely as they fought with one another, they would be formidable against anyone, who stood against them.

“I can’t help it, if I’m right and she’s wrong.” Ruby defended herself, airily waving her hand as she spoke.

Abigail picked up her drink, and with her hand holding her drink, pointed her finger at Ruby. “I think Grannie wins more than you do.”

“I wouldn’t want to cross her.” Ariel said, playing with the straw in her drink.

“Grannie’s a softie really.” Belle remarked. “Once you get to know her.”

Ruby pointed her finger at Belle. “She’s a softie with you.”

“Belle does have that effect on people.” Rumald injected into their conversation.

“Evidently.” Abigail rolled her eyes, whilst she sipped from her glass of wine.

“Oooh.” Belle reached across the table and touched Rumald’s hand. “I love this song!”

Looking across the table to Belle, Rumald watched Belle begin to rock her shoulders, from side to side, in time with the music. He casted his gaze over to the dancefloor, and then looked back to Belle, as she bobbed her head to the beat of the song. A quick swig of his beer, and Rumald stood, taking off his overcoat. Before folding his coat to put on his seat, he took his keys out and put them in his pocket, not wanting to lose those in the Rabbit Hole. Not when there were skeleton keys to Storybrooke on his keychain.

He offered his hand to Belle, asking her. “Care to dance?”

“Love to!” Belle had taken his hand and bounced to her feet, before she had accepted his offered.

Even though, Rumald had invited Belle to dance, she was the one, leading the way to the dancefloor. She was so eager to get to the dancefloor, Rumald tripped over his own feet, trying to keep up with her. Steadying himself by grabbing her upper arm, he chuckled at her excitement.

At the dancefloor, Belle whipped round and grabbed Rumald’s other hand, bringing him closer to her, while grinning at him like a fool. Slightly shaking his head at her, he used their joined hands to tug her to him, bumping her into his chest, whilst he wrapped his arms around her, cupping her behind. They moved together, swaying their hips in time with the music, as Belle lazily latched her arms around Rumald’s neck. He loved dancing with Belle. Dancing with her, as always, was effortless. Their bodies were in sync, grinding and swinging as one.

The more they danced, the more aroused Rumald became, and he was sure, Belle was as well, with her grinding herself onto his thigh. Cradling her in his arms, he dipped his face into the crook of her neck, smelling that distinct fragrance of her mixed with her perfume, and lightly kissed at the soft skin of her neck. Her hands clutched at the back of his head, keeping him there, while she lifted her chin to give him more access to her neck. He accepted her invitation by placing a wet kiss on the same spot, and then gently nipped at her neck. A hiss escaped her lips. Her nails dug into the nape of his neck and the back of his head. Suckling the same spot for a second, Rumald repeated his actions, tenderly marking her skin with his teeth. Belle lulled her head against his, moaning her pleasure into his ear.

“Get off of her!” A voice roared at him.

As a strong force snatched Rumald away from Belle, Rumald heard the sound of something ripping, whilst he was yanked further away from Belle. She tried to grab a hold of him. Her arms outstretched, a look of horror on her face. It was strange. The moment seemed to slow down, as Belle scurried after him, trying to catch him. He could tell from her lips, she was calling his name, but… whoever it was, hauled Rumald further away. Staggered by what was occurring, Rumald had no choice, but to go with what was happening, watching helplessly as Belle struggled to get to him. Her fingertips touched the top of his right hand, drawing all of his attention, while the secret assailant slung Rumald backwards.

Tripping over his own feet, Rumald grabbed for a table and gained his balance. Extra material of his shirt, was loosely hanging down his right arm, exposing his shoulder and the top of his right arm. He quickly scanned his gaze over his arm, his shirt, and then over his hands, before he whipped round to see who it was.

“Gaston, don’t!” Belle cried, grabbing onto Gaston’s arm.

“Get off me!” Gaston tried to shrug Belle off of his arm.

Belle fought with Gaston, grabbing at his shirt, his shoulder, struggling to get a hold of her hunky ex-fiancé. Easily, Gaston pushed her away, thwarting her attempts to stop him. She clawed at him, fighting to get a hold of him. The annoyance of Belle’s actions must have gotten to Gaston, because he swatted her away like an annoying nat. She was knocked back into some bystanders, ogling the scene from a safe distance. Mustering herself together, Belle had a stern look on her face, ready to release her wrath on her ex.

Rumald waved his hand at her, motioning her away. “Stay out of this, Belle!”

All the rage, she had gathered, melted at his command, standing lost, while Gaston trudged his way, fists clenched, to Rumald. Shifting his attention, from Belle to Gaston, welcoming him with a sly smile.

Gaston raised his hand up to point at Rumald. “I’m going to rip that smile off your face.”

“Promises, promises.” Rumald returned, as Gaston recoiled his fist and took a swing at Rumald.

Timing it just right, Rumald bent his head to the side, missing Gaston’s fist by millimetres. Snatching back his fist, Gaston swung again. Rumald sidestepped the fist, returning the gesture with one of his own, punching Gaston directly in the face. Covering his face, where Rumald had hit him, Gaston stepped back, shocked the older man had managed to hit him.

Grinning at Gaston, Rumald taunted him. “I’m still smiling, dearie.”

“You won’t be in a minute.” Gaston told him.

Rumald ducked under Gaston’s next swing, stepping round his opponent to be behind him. Turning round, Gaston’s brow weighed heavily down on his eyes, darkening his eyes. With a single finger, Rumald urged Gaston to come at him again, enjoying the little tussle with the buffoon. The hatred in Gaston’s eyes, excited Rumald. His whole body tingled with the rush of adrenaline, singing as it coursed through his veins.

“Stop it! Both of you!” Belle commanded.

He turned his head to look at Belle, his heart clenched. Her finger pointed furiously at something, urging him to look somewhere in front of him. Twisting his head to follow her finger, Rumald came face to face with Gaston, who as their gazes met, grabbed Rumald by his ripped shirt, and hauled him up off of his feet. His first reaction was to grab onto Gaston’s wrists. Spying down at his feet, when he felt his weight lifted off his feet, Rumald knew he was in trouble now, especially when he looked at Gaston’s face, an evil grin was on his face. He fought, kicking his legs, swinging his arms, whilst Gaston walked them somewhere. Changing tact, Rumald beat his forearms down on top of Gaston’s, trying to break the hold before Gaston took them, wherever he was heading.

“I’m going to enjoy this!” Gaston claimed and slammed Rumald down onto a table.

The glasses on the table tipped over and rolled off the table. Rumald pulled a face, at the wetness of his shirt and the pain in his lower back, reawakening his injury from the beginning of the week. At the last second, Rumald snatched his head to the side, dodging the punch Gaston threw at him. Kneeing Gaston in his side, Rumald caught Gaston in his ribs, distracting Gaston enough to remove the hand holding him down onto the table. Gaston launched another fist at Rumald, while Rumald threw one of his own, launching himself up from the table, almost meeting Gaston’s fist before he landed his own.

“Enough!” Someone yelled at them.

Suddenly, Gaston was ripped away from standing over Rumald, and a pair of hands grabbed Rumald, hauling him off the table. The momentum, of being snatched up onto his feet, made him unsteady. Rumald grabbed his saviour to steady himself, finding it was the young deputy, Deputy Nolan had taken on in the summer. Roughly, the young deputy directed Rumald to walk, holding him by the scuff of his shirt, following after Deputy Graham, who was escorting Gaston out of the bar.

The crowd of faces watched, as the young deputy escorted Rumald to the door, all whispering and pointing their fingers at him. None of them, made him feel more ashamed, than the look on Belle’s face as the young deputy led him by her. He opened his mouth to speak to her, reaching his hand out to catch hers, but the young deputy shoved him forward, telling Rumald to move. Awkwardly, Rumald glared over his shoulder at the young man. The young deputy did not shy away, and was unaffected by Rumald’s look. Casting his gaze back to Belle, Rumald’s heart clenched at the sight of Ruby reassuring her friend, wrapping her arm around her shoulders. That should have been him. He should be the one consoling her. The old feeling of being a failure swamped him, weighing heavily on his shoulders, causing him to drag his feet as he was marched out of the bar.

Outside in the cold air, Rumald became very aware of the tear in his shirt, allowing the cold night air to caress him in a very unwelcome manner. A shiver ran through his whole body. Hugging his arms around himself, trying to keep some warmth, Rumald came to a stop with the young deputy and glanced at the young man beside him.

“Right, Andrew.” Deputy Graham called, adjusting the handcuffs he had put on Gaston. “You take Mr Phipps to the office. I’ll handle Mr Gold.”

“Yes, sir.” The young deputy nodded his head and relinquished his hold on Rumald.

Clutching at his arms, Rumald squeezed up his toes inside of his shoes, bracing himself against the cold, as Deputy Graham wandered over to him and the young deputy grabbed Gaston’s elbow, escorting the hulk of a man away. Graham braced his hands on his gun belt, parting his jacket, whilst he came to stop in front of Rumald. Over the deputy’s shoulder, Rumald caught the glare Gaston shot back at him.

“To say, Mr Gold, I was astonished, when the call came in, about you brawling in the Rabbit Hole, would’ve been an understatement.” Deputy Graham joked.

“It’s not exactly, how I planned to spend my night, Deputy Graham.” Rumald stated.

Angling himself, to see the young deputy and Gaston, Graham said. “No, I wouldn’t think you would.” And turned back to Rumald, to say. “Which is why, I’m telling you to go home, Mr Gold.”

“Okay, Deputy, I will as soon as I get my coat and…” Rumald was cut off by Graham holding up his hand, telling him. “Mr Gold, it is the policy of the Rabbit Hole, that once you’ve been thrown out for brawling or any misdemeanour, you cannot renter the premises until following day.”

Rumald held up his arms and then waved his hand at the bar behind him. “But Belle’s in there!”

Deputy Graham shrugged his shoulders. “I would advise you call her, because Ron won’t be letting you back into the bar.”

Stepping back, to see the bouncer on the door, Rumald could not believe what he was being told. He put his hand into his pocket and pulled out his phone, with Deputy Graham standing nearby. Glimpsing from his phone to the Deputy, Rumald quickly got the impression, Graham was not going to leave until he had left. A swipe of his thumb and he entered his password, unlocking his phone, so he could call Belle. Rumald raised the phone to his ear and waited. While it rung, Rumald wrapped his arm around himself, hoping to ward off the cold, even though, he could feel it creep its way through the rip in his shirt.

Belle’s voicemail kicked in, as it instructed him what to do, Rumald glanced at Graham and left his message. “Hey, Sweetheart, could you bring my coat out for me? They’re refusing to allow me back inside.”

Rumald ended the call to slip his phone back into his pocket, and shoved his hands under his arms, protecting his hands from being bitten by the cold. Shifting on the spot, he turned to face the door of the bar, waiting for Belle. From behind him, he could hear the leather of Graham’s coat as he moved. A second later, out of the corner of his eye, Rumald saw Deputy Graham was stood beside him, checking the time on his watch.

“I won’t be causing any more trouble, Deputy.” Rumald tried to convince Graham to leave, giving him the opportunity to bride the bouncer.

Graham shoved his hands into his jacket. “I’m not going anywhere, Mr Gold, until you’re on your way home. And seeing how cold it is tonight, I’d advise that be rather sooner than later.”

“Let me try her again.” Rumald pulled his phone out again and immediately rung Belle.

It rung several times until the voicemail kicked in again. Licking at his lips, Rumald ended the call and shoved his phone into his pocket. He could have understood her reluctance to answer, if it had been him, who had started the fight. But instead, ironically, Rumald was the one left out in the cold. Huffing a breath, a glance to Deputy Graham and the bouncer, Rumald reluctantly started towards his car, trudging the sidewalk back to the dance studio. The cold was relentlessly biting at his bare skin as he walked away. He hugged himself and rubbed his exposed arm, encouraging some warmth back into his arm, while he shook his head at himself.


	43. Chapter 43

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Rumald comes home and makes a call to confirm his suspicions.

Rumald shook his head, as he climbed the steps of his front porch and approached his front door, annoyed his evening with Belle had been ruined. The plan had been simple enough. Meet up with Belle, either take her to dinner or spend the evening however she wanted, and either go back to hers or bring her home with him. Instead, he had been sent home by one of the Sheriff’s deputies. Under his breath, he grumbled and opened his front door. The warmth of his house welcomed him with open arms, barring the cold from entering, while he closed the front door behind him.

There was a thunk and an oof sound from the living room. Rumald moved to the opening of the living room, to see Emma sat on the couch, bent over, picking up the mess on the floor, while his son stood with his back to him, the position of his arms suggesting he was fastening his pants. Raising his hand to his forehead, he massaged the lines on his forehead, asking himself, ‘ _How did my life get to his point?’_. The thought of nearly coming home, to find his son and the Sheriff’s daughter going at it in his living room, would have probably been the last straw for Rumald. It was one thing to know, his son was sexually active, as many adults were, but it would have been another thing to see it.

“Hey dad, we weren’t expecting you back so soon!” Neal said loudly, beaming a smile at his father after he had turned round, but his smile soon fell at the sight of Rumald. “What happened to you?”

“Nothing, I couldn’t handle.” Rumald used the hand, that had been massaging his forehead, to wave off Neal’s concern and dropped his hand to his side.

Emma was giving him a questioning look. “Have you been in a fight?”

“Have I been in a fight?” Rumald’s tone dripped with sarcasm. “No, no. This is the new craze, torn shirt.”

Neal cautiously approached his father. “Dad, are you okay?”

“Just peachy.” Rumald told him and then motioned to the mess in the living room with his finger. “And I’ll be even peachier, when you two have cleaned up your mess. Do I need to remind you, that this is my house?”

“Okay, dad… We’ll sort this out…” Neal was arm’s length away from his father, when he reached out to touch his father, his gaze split between Rumald’s face and big gaping hole in Rumald’s shirt. “Are you okay, though?”

Rumald conceded at his son’s genuine concern, bracing a weak smile for his son, as he said. “Yes, I’m fine.”

Neal frowned at his father’s shirt, touching the torn material. “What happened, dad?”

“Don’t worry about it.” Rumald waved off Neal’s hand and stepped back, putting distance between himself and his son. “I’m going to get a drink and go to my study. I’m sorry.” He told them, realising he was taking his mood out on them. “I didn’t mean to interrupt your evening, for a second time. Look, just pretend I’m not here.”

“Dad, you don’t need to hide yourself away, because of us.” Neal motioned to himself and Emma, glimpsing back to Emma, who nodded in agreement.

“Mr Gold, by all means, join us.” She offered, waving her hand to the couch.

Rumald shook his head. “I’ve got work to do. Honestly, just get on with your evening.”

“Are you sure?” Neal asked.

“Yes, son.” Rumald touched his son’s shoulder. “I’m fine.”

Neal gave his father one last hard look and then went back into the living room, joining Emma in tidying up the popcorn and other bits on the rug. Sighing, Rumald looked dejectedly at the tear in his shirt before he rolled his eyes, and set off for the kitchen, to collect a bottle of beer from fridge and headed upstairs, to the sanctuary of his study.

The study was on the third floor of his house. At the top of the stairs, Rumald drank from his beer and flicked the light switch, surveying the open planned floor, when the lights had illuminated the space. A couple of months after Milah had left him, he had thrown himself into a project, transforming the top floor of his house into a library/study area for himself. When they had bought the house, the plan had been to convert the top floor into a studio for Milah, so she could start painting again, like she had done before they had moved to America. He casted his gaze over the numerous bookcases, lining the walls of the room. The bookcases were mostly filled with research books for Rumald, with only a few bookcases reserved for books of fiction and books that had piqued Rumald’s interest over the years.

Walking from the top of the stairs to the doorway of his study, Rumald began to unbutton the ruined shirt, pulling it out, from the waist of his jeans as he walked. A quick flick of his hand at the light switch, when he was in his study, lit the room, while he headed to his desk to set down his bottle of beer. Stripping his shirt from his arms, Rumald gave it one more look, inspecting the rip, and tossed the shirt into the trashcan, near his feet. He stood there, looking down at the sore reminder, of how his evening had ended.

Rumald sighed heavily as he stepped by the desk, putting on the shirt, he had collected on his way upstairs, and sat down into his leather office chair. He tapped the keys of his keyboard, waking up his computer, and began buttoning up his shirt. There was a red icon next to his email, indicating he had twenty-four emails waiting for him. Taking hold of his mouse, Rumald selected his mailbox icon and scanned through the subjects of his emails. He deleted them as he went through them, leaving the ones he needed to address, and opened the one from Rachel, marked important. Reading her email, Rumald squinted his eyes at it, seeing nothing that would make him think it should be marked important. She was only inquiring, if he was going to be at the opening tomorrow night. With a sharp click, he deleted her email, wanting nothing more to do with her, which did not involve business.

Rolling onto his left hip in his chair, he took his phone out from pocket, and unlocked to bring up his list of contacts. He lounged back into his chair, lifting his right leg to cross over his left, and traced his fingertip along the edge of his desk, while he selected to call the Mayor.

The Mayor answered after the fourth ring. “What can I do for you, Rumald?”

“I do love it, when you get straight to the point.” Rumald jested.

“I’m in the middle of a game.” The Mayor told him, sternly.

Rumald found a nick in the edge of his desk and repeatedly rubbed his finger over it, as he said. “I want to know, what happened to Regina’s booking at the town hall.”

“Oh, that.” The Mayor was flippant. “It’s a clerical error.”

Taking his finger away from the nick, Rumald turned in his chair, looking out the large window onto the forest at the back of his house, shrouded in darkness, with the moon lighting up the sky. “Now, I know Arlene, and she doesn’t make mistakes.”

“Rumald, it was clerical error.” The Mayor insisted.

“You know, as well as I do, that you’re talking a load of shit.” Rumald told him.

“I’ve no idea what you’re talking about.” The Mayor dismissed Rumald’s accusation.

Rumald rubbed his fingers over his chin, prickling his fingers with his beard, and said. “I’ve got a seeking suspicion, that Cora Mills has been whispering in your ear, Trevor.”

“How did… No, no. I haven’t spoken to Cora in years.” The Mayor’s blunder caused Rumald to smirk.

“So, what’s she offered you?” Rumald asked. “Money? Favours? Sexual favours?”

“Sexual? You realise that’s your ex you’re talking about?” The Mayor inquired.

“Exactly, I know what’s she capable of.” Rumald shared with the Mayor, whilst hearing at the same time, the front doorbell ring downstairs.

“Look, Rumald, it’s done. There’s nothing, I can do to change it now.” The Mayor stated, calling an end to their conversation.

Rumald shook his head. “No, there is something you can do about it.”

“What?” The Mayor asked bluntly.

“You can undo, whatever you’ve done.” Rumald told him, swivelling round in his chair to lean onto his desk. “Regina has helped out this community, more than her mother ever has. Your loyalty should lie with her, especially if you want your little secret to stay that way.”

The Mayor made a noise before Rumald heard him excuse himself, and said in a hushed, strained voice. “Rumald, you promised!”

“And that’s how much this means to me! If you break this deal with Regina, and I’ll break my deal with you!” Rumald warned, with his eye catching movement outside of his study.

“Rumald, I seriously, I can’t get out of this with Cora. You have to understand. I can’t refuse her. The only thing, I could do for Regina, is to give her back her deposit, even if it is non-refundable.” The Mayor pleaded with Rumald, while he watched Belle and Neal, stood near the top of the stairs, talking with Neal gesturing to the room.

Rumald tore his gaze away from them, and stabbed his finger at his desk, saying to the Mayor. “Believe me, dearie, I understand. Once she gets her crawls into you, you’ll never get them out again.”

Through the open doorway of his study, Rumald eye was caught again by Neal and Belle, as his son waved Belle in the direction of the study, with the Mayor saying into Rumald’s ear. “So, if you understand, you won’t break our agreement then?”

“I’ll think about it.” Rumald said and ended the call, hearing the Mayor’s desperate plead as he did.

Putting his phone down onto his desk, Rumald looked up to see Belle stood in the doorway of his study. He sat back into his chair, attempting to determine whether she had come to end it to his face. It would not be his shortest relationship, but it was hurt considerably more than any of them had before. His heart was already tearing itself apart in his chest. The pain creased his brow, while he sat waiting for her to plunge the knife in his chest, ending his turmoil.

Belle stepped into his study, asking him. “Are you okay? Gaston didn’t hurt you, did he?”

“Not really.” He shrugged a single shoulder at her. “Just ruined a hundred-dollar shirt.”

“I’ll replace it.” She insisted with her gaze on the trashcan, containing his ruined shirt.

“No, you won’t.” He shook his head at her, smirking at her ridiculous offer.

Her hands clamped down onto her hips, as she further insisted. “Rumald, this is all my fault. You shouldn’t have to pay for what I did.”

“I’m not bothered about the shirt.” Rumald diverted his gaze away from her. “Look, just say what you’ve come here to say.”

Her stance remained the same, while she squinted her gaze at him. “What’d mean?”

He could not bring himself to look at her, as he spoke to her, waving a hand to indicate himself. “I’d rather, we just get this over and done with. I’ve got work, I could be getting on with.”

Belle had a confused look on her face. “Get this over and done with…? What are you talking about?”

“I can understand, if you don’t want to see me anymore.” Rumald let his gaze drift round to her.

“Don’t want to see you?” Belle repeated part of his statement, and then advanced to his desk, telling him. “Rumald, I’m not here to break up with you. I’m here to see, if you’re alright. I was worried, when you weren’t outside the bar or at the Sheriff’s office. Why would I want to break up with you?”

“I… I just thought…” Rumald stammered his words out.

She crouched down, next to his chair, resting her hands on the arm of his chair. “Do you think, that I’m going to break up with you, over a stupid fight with my ex? Is your opinion of yourself that low?”

He was at a loss for words, angling his head to see her knelt beside him, hitting him with the truth of her words. There was no denying it – Belle was right. How could he think, that she would break up with him over a meaningless fight with Gaston? The question plagued him, as he turned his face away from her, bowing his head down in front of him. No matter how much he had accomplished, how much he had gained, and how far he had come – Rumald still felt like the little boy, left on his aunts’ step, watching his dad drive away. With his life full of people abandoning him, it was easier to suspect everyone would do it. Sooner or later, they left him for their various reasons.

Belle claimed his hand from his desk, and stroked her thumb over the back of his hand, telling Rumald. “I could never imagine leaving you. Not when we’ve just gotten together.”

“You deserve better.” He mumbled with his gaze fixed on his lap.

“Rumald, I’m not interested in having something better.” She reached for his face and turned his head to make him look at her. “I already have better. I have you.”

Cupping her hand, touching his face, Rumald turned his face in her hand and kissed the palm of her hand, touched by her kind words. It was hard to believe them. All of his life, he had been treated no better than a criminal, judged before he had a chance to prove himself. It had been hard, growing up under the stigma of his father, condemned to be a coward.

“I’m sorry.” He yielded to her, showing her weakness. “Seeing the look you gave me and then not answering the phone, I just thought the worse.”

She squeezed his hand. “I didn’t answer, because I was contending with Gaston’s date.”

Frowning, Rumald turned his gaze back to Belle. “What?”

“She felt the need, to tell me, how I’ve ruined Gaston’s life.” Belle shared with him, smirking at the idea.

“Right…” He said unsurely. “Like I believe that.”

“Well, she does.” Belle chuckled before she carried on to tell him. “So much so, that Ruby had to get between us, when she started shoving me.”

“Excuse me?” Rumald raised his eyebrows in shock.

Belle let out a short laugh. “Yeah, we both nearly got into fights tonight.”

“Not exactly, how I wanted our night to go.” Rumald confessed.

“Definitely memorable.” She commented, smiling at him.

“I suppose.” He agreed with her, taking her hand down from his face, to cradle it between his hands.

A solemn look came over her face, when she said to him. “Why do you have such a low opinion of yourself?”

The pain of reliving every moment, baring himself to her, seemed to high of an obstacle for him to get over. He did not want to tell her the truth. He wanted her to believe in the hard man, who was unafraid and got what he wanted. Not the snivelling little boy, wiping stray tears from his face. He clenched his eyes shut to the memory.

“What’s the matter?” Belle asked, reaching to touch his face with her other hand, and grasped at his hands, holding her other hand.

“Nothing.” He lied as he opened his eyes, bracing a full blown smile for her.

“Rumald, I can see it in your face, that something’s upsetting you.” She told him, caressing his face.

He breathed in, filling his lungs. The look she was giving him, was foreign to Rumald. No one had ever looked at him like that. Not Milah, nor Cora. Neither of them, had cared enough about him, to want to know the inner thoughts that plagued him. Neal was barely aware of Rumald’s childhood. The memories he had shared with his son, had been streamlined to happier moments, cutting away all of the sadness and guilt, he had endured over the years, for things he had and had not done. In Belle’s eyes, he could see she was keen to know, pleading with him, with a gentle smile. Nonetheless, sharing the memories with her, which had made him so dark, was not something he planned to do, as yet.

Jolting his head with a thought, Rumald lifted his hand to point at the doorway. “Let me show you my library.”

“What?” Belle questioned, shocked by the change in conversation.

“Come with me.” He genuinely smiled, taking hold of her hand, while he swivelled in his chair to face her and stood up.

Clasping a hand at her elbow, Rumald helped her to stand with their close proximity, and then used his hand on her elbow to guide her back to the doorway. She gave him a questioning look, but did not resist him. He led her through the doorway in front of him, quickly following her through it, and motioned to his vast collection of books. There was no distracting her. Belle studied his face, whilst he ambled away from her, hoping she would follow him, deeper into the room.

“What’d you think?” Rumald asked, holding his hands out, gesturing to his library.

Her eyes were slits, as she gazed at him, easily seeing through his ploy to distract her. A few short seconds passed, and then Belle gave a short shake her of her head at him, opening her eyes to survey his library. Drawing in his hands to his chest, Rumald let out a quiet breath, grateful she had let their conversation in his study die. Her gaze ran over the bookcases lining the walls, the sitting area, he had in the middle of the space, and the large table, where he had maps of Storybrooke and surrounding areas laid out.

“It’s…” Belle took a couple of steps from his study door. “It’s beautiful. There’s so many books here, I doubt I could read them in my lifetime.”

Rumald smiled. “The majority of them are for research.” He waved his hand to the bookcases on his left, lining the wall to his study. “These are all fiction. Some biographical. A few history books.”

“What are those?” She motioned to the other side of the room.

“That side is the research side. Books on antiques and various other things. Several bookcases with my law books.” Rumald disclosed to her, stepping round to see that side of the room.

“It isn’t, how I imagined it would be.” She confessed to him.

Twisting at his waist to see her, now stood beside him, he said. “What did you expect?”

“Nothing this big.” Belle chuckled. “Just like… A converted bedroom or something.”

“I bought the house, planning to do something with the space. Otherwise, we would have had several unused rooms up here.” He shared with her, while admiring the look on her face.

Her eyebrows rose, creasing lines into her forehead, as her shoulders lifted slightly and fell, with her saying. “I could only dream of having a library like this.”

There was an underlying tone to her voice as she spoke. A hint of jealousy, mixed with a pout of her lips. The left corner of his lips turned up at the look on her face, finding her protruding bottom lip cute. Angling his head to the side, studying her beauty, Rumald knew, he would gladly give his library to her. He would give her everything and the world, if it would secure her happiness. Even with that thought in mind, Rumald could not extend the offer to her, wishing to share his library with her, not with things between them so new. The weaker side of him, would gladly grovel at her feet, welcoming her with open arms, offering his heart on a silver platter. However, the hardened side of him, the side which had grown from all the heartache and backstabbing, he had endured over the years, wanted to bury his heart deep in the woods, so no one could get it.

“Here,” Rumald turned round, pointing to the top shelves of the fiction bookcases. “You’ll probably find these interesting.”

She followed his actions, pivoting round to see what he was showing her. “What’s that?”

“Come over here.” He put his arm around her, guiding her closer to the bookcases.

Belle titled her head up, looking at the smirk on his face. “What?”

“Hang on.” Rumald held up his hand to her, before skipping a couple of steps over to get the antique steps, he had saved and reconditioned years ago. “Here.” He rolled the steps over to her and gestured for her to go up the steps. “Top shelf.”

She gave him a questioning look, but a wicked smile soon replaced it, as she climbed the steps, mindful of her heels. Unlike Rumald, Belle had to climb to the top step, to be able to reach the top shelve. Standing at the bottom step, Rumald held onto the antique steps, steadying it for Belle and safely trapping her within his arms. She glanced down at him, a bemused look on her face, and then selected one of the novels from the shelf. While her hand cradled the spine of the book, Belle flicked open the book, reading the title page of the book.

“Sense and Sensibility. First edition.” Belle read out loud, then looked down at Rumald. “First edition?”

Rumald smiled up at her. “Every top shelf, of these bookcases.” He pointed to the bookcases, he was referring to. “Have first editions.”

“Really?” She put the book back and pulled out another, quickly flicking to the title page to read it. “A first edition of The Talented Mr Ripley.” And then read the spines of the books remaining on the shelf. “Nineteen Eight-Four, The Time Machine, The Hound of the Baskervilles… Aren’t these all really rare books?”

“Mmm…” He murmured in agreement, letting his gaze travel down her dress to the beginning of her legs.

Belle returned the book to the shelf, her gaze to the next bookcase, as she said. “These must be worth a fortune.”

“A grand or two.” Rumald traced the back of Belle’s thigh to the back of her knee.

“More like thousands.” She remarked, pulling a book from the shelf, to inspect it. “These are pristine.”

Examining the beginning of the curve of her calf muscle, the tip of his tongue slipped out between his lips, and licked at his top lip. His breath quickened, as he slowly reached out his finger, giving into his temptation to touch her. The tip of his finger lightly touched the top of her calf. Glancing up, Belle’s nose was buried deep inside one of the books. Rumald grinned. Lowering his gaze to his finger, ever so softly, he leisurely traced his fingertip down the back of her leg. For so long, he had only been able to fantasise this, touching and caressing her in the hope of driving her mad with passion. His eyes flicked up to her face, to see she was squinting at the book in her hand, cradling it in her hand, while her finger followed something on the pages.

“Rumald, these must be decades old, but they look…” She thought for a brief moment, lifting her finger from the page as she did, and said. “Perfect.”

“I knew, you’d appreciate them.” Rumald shared, while his finger neared her ankle.

Belle angled the book, to be flat in front of her, studying the side view of the spine. “There’s no marks… No small tears…. No sign that anyone has ever read this book.”

“Which makes it very rare and expensive, indeed.” He told her, retracing the path his finger had taken down her leg.

She asked, while returning the book to the shelf. “Are they all the same condition?”

“Oh, yes.” Rumald glimpsed up to her. “Very much so.”

“I want to read all of them, but I don’t want to touch them.” Contrary to what she had said, her hands were splayed over the spines of the books, eyeing up her next victim. 

“You’re more than welcome to read them.” He offered with his finger stopping at the top of her calf.

Belle’s eyes gaped wide open. “Rumald,” She bent her head to look down at him. “These are precious! They need preserving, not reading. You should keep them locked away.”

Rumald shook his head at her, whilst he lazily followed the curve her calf again, adding another finger. “Books were created to be enjoyed, sweetheart. Not to be held prisoner.”

“If they were mine, they’d in a glass cabinet, where no one could touch them.” She shared with him, her eyes running over the spines of the books in front of her.

His lips spread into a wide smile. “It’s not like, I let the whole of Storybrooke use my library.”

“It’s a good job too!” She exclaimed above him. “You’d have books coming back with pages missing, graffiti and coffee stains. And that’s just the adults!”

“I doubt they’d do that to my books.” Rumald angled his head to the side, as his fingers reached her ankle again.

“What makes you say that?” Belle asked, as she suddenly grabbed the end of the shelf, steadying herself, when Rumald began to drag his fingernails up her leg.

Titling his head up again, in a sinister tone, he said. “Because I’d break their legs, dearie.”

Under his fingers, Rumald felt a shudder down her leg, whilst she sucked in her lower lip to bite it. Her eyes slowly closed before she leaned into the bookcase. Bemused by her reaction, he crooked an eyebrow. Above him, he heard her quietly moan, with his fingernails ending their travel at the back of her knee.

Changing tact, Rumald splayed his hand on her thigh, and caressed his hand up her leg, sliding his hand effortlessly under her dress. Her muscle tensed under his touch. Grinning at the physical response to his touch, he skimmed his hand round to the back of her leg, while the hem of her leg drew tighter over his arm. Belle moaned, resting her forehead against the shelf. His eyes flashed wider, when his fingertips touched the material of her underwear. Rumald’s heart was pounding in chest, daring him to go further, spurred on by his darkness wanting more. Crawling his fingers at her underwear, he captured the fabric of her underwear with his fingers, and brought them down her legs, scratching his fingernails into her skin as he did. Belle let out a moan. He flicked his gaze up to Belle’s face, her eyes were still closed, and her top teeth buried deep into her lower lip.

“Like that?” He asked in a sultry voice.

“Mmm…” She purred.

At the hem of her dress, Rumald’s hand came out, drawing her underwear down with it. Her underwear went limp and dropped further down her legs. He smirked at her underwear pooled at her feet. Taking hold of her waist, Rumald turned her to face him, lifting his gaze to face, running his eyes over her body as he did. He knew, he was blessed to have her here with him, which was why, he wanted to worship every inch of her. Gliding his hands down her dress, from her waist, he stopped when his hands reached her thighs, and used his hands to hike up her dress.

“What if…” Belle sounded nervous.

Kneeling his left knee onto a step, bringing him closer to her, he asked. “What if…?”

“What if Neal” She drew in a sharp breath, at Rumald placing a hot kiss on her left thigh. ”Or if Emma come up here?”

“They won’t.” Rumald crooned, his lips whispering his words against her leg.

His hands travelled higher, forcing her dress to follow, revealing her sex to him. He kissed higher on her right thigh, paying as much attention to either thigh. Pouting his lips, he blew his warm breath over her sex, causing her to squirm and grab at his hair on the top of his head. So close to her centre, he kissed at the edge of her right thigh.

“Rumald.” She moaned his name, a hint of fear in her voice.

He kissed her again. “Yes…?”

“We can’t do this here.” Belle told him.

“Okay, sweetheart.” Rumald suddenly grabbed at the back of her knees, pulling her legs either side of his chest, and hauled her off the steps. “We’ll do it over here.”

“What?!” She let out a scream, grabbing fistfuls of his shirt, while Rumald carried her over to the sitting area, in the middle of the room.

How he carried Belle, put her bare chest in front of him. Not wasting the opportunity, Rumald kissed at the top of her breasts, hungrily nipping at her skin between kisses. She wrapped her arms around his head and clasped at his hair with her fingers. Biting her slightly harder, Rumald was rewarded with her yanking his head, using his hair to do it. He grinned at her. Shaking her head with a smile, Belle grabbed his face and kissed him, moulding their lips into a soldering kiss.


	44. Chapter 44

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Rumald begins to make arrangements to help out Regina.

Flexing his fingers, Rumald grimaced at the heavy weight, pinning his arm into the mattress. Cracking his eyes open, sleepily he lifted his head from his pillow, gazing at the auburn hair on the other pillow. He blinked his eyes and smiled. Last night felt like a dream, but seeing her laid beside him, her hand clutching his wrist and her backside pressing firmly into his crotch. It was very clear. It was not a dream.

He shifted the top half his body closer to her, sliding his arm around her naked body, holding her firmly to the front of his chest. Her hair tickled his nose, as he snuggled his head into the pillows. Unwrapping his arm from her, Rumald stroked her hair out of his face and quickly returned his arm to hold her possessively. Belle mumbled something in her sleep, as Rumald slid his fingers underneath her. Her leg shifted back, hitting her heel into his shin. She murmured again as her hand let go of his wrist, and moved to find his arm around her waist. Closing his eyes, the only thought on Rumald’s mind was ‘ _Bliss’_ , as he relaxed himself to go back to sleep.

Though, as he laid there with her, awake, eyes closed, his mind became plagued with the things he had to do. Firstly, he had to find a solution to Regina’s problem. From reading Regina’s list, there was not a place in town, which would be available to hold Regina’s exhibition. Nowhere that would be suitable for them to dance or had the capacity for Regina’s ticket holders. With it being three weeks until Christmas, Rumald doubted there were going to be many place available. The only option, which could possibly work, but would be near impossible to complete, would be to create a venue. Rumald had toyed, for years, with the idea of renovating one of his vacant buildings. Creating a venue hall, which would double a bar/nightclub, giving the Rabbit Hole some competition. Course, there had never been a lucrative reason, but if it would fix Regina’s problem and be profitable in the future – Win, win.

Rumald opened his eyes to see the back of Belle’s head. Raising his head off of his pillow, he spied at his clock over Belle’s head, seeing it was about to turn seven o’clock. That explained why he was awake. Rolling his eyes at himself, he buried his face into the back of Belle’s hair, wishing he could stay with her longer. He kissed the back of her head and began the painstaking task, of removing himself from her. Carefully, Rumald pulled his arm out from underneath, mindful not to wake her. She made a noise or two, when his arm slipped out from under her neck. He waited, unsure whether he had awoken her. Grabbing her pillow, Belle rolled away from him, smothering half of her face into her pillow. He picked up the covers and scooted out of the bed, watching her as he did.

Dressing in his pyjamas, he quietly left his bedroom, watchful of Belle, peeping round the edge of the door as he closed it. The door to his bedroom softly clicked into place. He tiptoed a few steps away, mindful of the creaking floorboards, and walked down the hallway to the stairs.

His son’s bedroom door was closed on his way by it. Rumald smirked, thinking of their night in the library. Even though, Belle had been reserved to begin with, she had soon forgotten her fear, urging him with encouraging moans and a firm hand to the back of his head. He had to supress her cries of ecstasy, with his hand clamped over her mouth, enjoying the sight of her riding out her pleasure. Though, they probably should have been more respectful of his son being in the house, with his ‘new’ girlfriend. Rumald could not help the way, Belle made him feel young and reckless, bringing out his darker side.

Retrieving a cup of coffee from downstairs, Rumald headed immediately back up the stairs and took the next set to the third floor. He entered his study, sipping from his hot cup of coffee. His eye was caught by the view of the woods, outside of the window. The sun was just starting to peek over the top of the trees. It was always a glorious sight, and one he spared a moment to marvel at, when he had the chance. Grabbing the chance to get ahead of his day, Rumald could not spare the time, and went to the filing cabinet, containing the files on his properties. He pulled out the third draw, as he stooped down and flicked through the files.

Rumald already had a few properties in mind. Pulling out their files, Rumald closed the draw and went to his desk, and laid the files down onto his desk, as he drank from his coffee. He stepped in front of his chair, squinting at the files on his desk, and sat down into his chair.

One of the files, was for a large warehouse, which was located on the outskirts of town. It was not ideal. Being so far from the town centre, meant people would have to drive to it. The main reason people went to the Rabbit Hole, was because it was convenient, allowing them to stumble home. However, the warehouse had amble land around it, so it could be expanded and moulded into whatever Rumald wanted. He picked up the folder for the warehouse, to move it to the left of his desk.

The next file in the stack, was for Storybrooke’s old picture house, located a block from Main Street. Rumald had been forced to shut the place down, in the late nineties, due to the outgoings being higher than the income. It was an exquisite building. One Rumald had bought, not just for the revenue, but for the glass windows and architecture. The pictures had been built in the nineteen thirties. One of the few remaining buildings in Storybrooke, from that era. The owner, Charles Deeming, had added the glass stained windows in the fifties. Along with some other mod cons of the time. The pictures had been one of Rumald’s first purchases, when Rumald had started buying up the town. Renovating it, would not take much work. It had original been a theatre. Knocking through the two small screen rooms downstairs, and removing the upstairs floor, would return it back to its original state, giving the venue ample room. The old confectionery counter could be easily transformed into a bar. But… He was not sure, whether he wanted to share the historic building with anyone else. Taking the file and putting it to the right side of his desk, he left his hand on top of file, favouring it as a choice, while also not wanting it to be his choice.

The other file, the final file, was a disused store, which was located several blocks over from Main Street. The building was not his first choice, and probably would not be his choice for a venue hall/bar/nightclub. The reason it was in the mix, was because it had room for expansion and the store was quite large. It would need the most work, as it was quite run down – the ceiling had collapse in parts of the building, some of the exterior windows would need replacing, and he was sure, from the last time he was in there and smelt the place, it had a rat infestation. Rumald pulled a face the file, remembering the smell. As though the file was tainted itself, he picked it up by his fingertips and moved it further away from himself.

Looking at the two folders, either side of him on the desk, Rumald drank some more of his coffee as he mulled over his decision. His fingers on his right hand, drummed out a rhythm on top of the old picture house folder. Rumald placed his cup onto the desk, his eyes on the folder under his hand. Moving his hand from the folder, he scooped up his phone and unlocked it, and sat back, scrolling through the contacts in his phone. He tapped the contact he wanted, held the phone to his ear, as he picked up his coffee to finish it.

“Hello…” Came a sleeping greeting from Marco.

“Marco,” Rumald grinned. “I’ve got a question.”

There was a flurry of movement on the other side of the phone, before Marco said anything more. “What can I do for you, Mr Gold?”

“I’ve got a project, which needs to be completed before the twenty-seventh of this month.” He put his coffee cup down on his desk, as he spoke to Marco. “Now, I’ve got two sites that we can use for this project. I have an old warehouse and the old picture house.”

“What would you want doing to them?” Marco asked, yawning by the end of his question.

Rumald lightly scratched at his beard, on his left cheek. “Creating venue centre, which would also be bar stroke nightclub.”

“Oh…” Marco remained silent until he said. “I know you don’t like it, when I tell you something isn’t possible, but this isn’t possible in the timeframe.”

“Marco, nothing is impossible. Get as many men as you need. I’ll pay double their hourly rate, and if they get it done a couple of days before, I’ll pay them a bonus.” Rumald put to Marco.

“Let me call a few people and I’ll let you know.” Marco said.

Rumald had a small smile on his face, as he told Marco. “Try and get back to me today. I don’t care the time. I need to know.”

“Okay, no problem, Mr Gold.” Marco assured Rumald.

Taking the phone away from his face, Rumald ended the call and placed it down on his desk. His gaze had lingered on the old picture house folder during the phone call. A prime location. A stunning building. It was inevitable, it seemed, that his choice would be the old picture house. Stroking his fingers over his lips, his fingers prickled by his beard as he did it, Rumald knew it was for the best. Just as books were meant to be read. The old picture house was meant to be used too. 

With his decision made, Rumald collected the other two files and his coffee cup, as he stood up, and took them back to the filing cabinet. As he was leaving his study, wanting more coffee, Rumald mentally noted the people, he had to call to get the ball rolling on his project. Dove was at the top of his list, needing him to take care of a few things, while he was in New York for the weekend. That was when, at the top of the stairs, he clicked his fingers, remembering he had to sort out a ticket for Belle before they left.

‘ _Belle’_ , he thought with a smile. Strolling down the stairs, the list of things he had to do was forgotten. Thoughts of Belle, lying in his bed, recuperating from the exuberance of last night. Rumald smirked at his thoughts, as he rounded the newel at the bottom of the first set of stairs. A strong temptation to crawl back into bed with her, pulled him down the hallway, towards his bedroom. The nag though, lingering in the back of his mind, of the things he had to get done, stopped him at the newel, to next set of stairs. Breathing in deeply, contented by knowing she was in his bed, would have to satisfy him for now. He turned his gaze away from the hallway, leading to his bedroom, and started down the next set of stairs.

At the bottom step, Rumald could hear things being moved around in his kitchen. His brow sat heavy over his eyes, whilst he took the last step and went through the opening into the kitchen. Neal was pulling a box of cereal, from the cupboard over the fridge, smiling over his shoulder at Emma, who was leaning against the counter by the sink, smiling back at him. Rumald’s eyebrows twitched up his forehead. He had not been aware of Emma staying over. Though, as he thought about it, he had not been paying much attention, to what was going on downstairs in his house. While he walked further into the kitchen, he quickly dismissed the thought, of what his son and Emma might have been doing, and joined them in the kitchen.

“Morning, Mr Gold.” Emma was the first to greet him.

Neal twisted his body, to see his father over his shoulder. “Hey, dad. Do you want some coffee?”

“Please.” Rumald held up his cup, indicating he already had a cup, and put it as near as he could, into the middle of the kitchen island.

“Emma?” Neal asked, claiming his dad’s cup.

“No, I’ll grab something from Grannies.” She told him, pushing herself away from the counter, meeting him to kiss him. “I’ve got to get to the station, but I’ll call you, when Henry and I are ready.”

Neal smiled. “Okay.”

The two danced by each other, smiling stupidly at each other. Seeing his son happy was a rarity. When Milah had left, the lost had been pretty hard on Neal, as the two had been close. The two of them shared a love for drawing. Many evenings, Rumald had come home from the shop, finding the two of them in the dining room, practising their drawing together. After she had left, Neal had refused to draw anything, and had thrown his drawing pads and pencils, swearing never to draw ever again. Though as time passed, Rumald had noticed more and more, Neal had been doing small doddles on things. Sadly, it was soon after this point, Rumald had become distant from Neal, solely occupied with Cora, and had missed out on witnessing Neal refining his craft into the artist he had become. He had found out about the prizes Neal had won for his drawings.

A considerable time after the fact, finding the certificate or trophy in his son’s room. It was things like that, which stung Rumald, when he thought back on what he missed. Staring down at the counter of the kitchen island, Rumald balled his hands into fists on top of the counter, silently cursing himself. The guilt he felt would always be his burden. A burden, which he deserved to carry.

Rumald raised his head, in time to see Emma walking passed him. Reaching out his hand, he touched her arm, halting her from going any further. There was an alarmed look on her face. He edged closer to her, while she glanced to Neal in the corner of the kitchen, preparing drinks for Rumald and himself.

Following her gaze to his son, Rumald said in a hushed voice. “I take it you haven’t told him yet?”

“I haven’t found the right moment.” Was her hasty reply.

“Find it. Soon.” He told her, turning his head to meet her gaze.

“I will.” Emma shamefully dropped her gaze from Rumald’s, before glimpsing to Neal.

Rumald took his hand back, letting Emma be on her way, and returned his hand to the counter. He did not want to get involved in his son’s business, but this was too important to let idle hands deal with. The girl had sat on this secret for eight years. She had had ample time to come clean with Neal, doing the right thing. Whether her family liked it or not, Rumald would be damned, if Neal remained ignorant to being a father.

“Oh, hey Emma.” Said her sweet voice.

Whipping round at the sound of her voice, Rumald grinned at Belle, stood in the foyer, wearing his dressing gown. Her hands clutched the flaps of his dressing gown, wrapping them tighter around herself, covering up any possible chance to peek at her bare skin. Emma sidestepped around Belle, a tinge of pink in her cheeks.

“Belle.” Emma briskly returned Belle’s greeting.

Belle shyly smiled at Emma. “Off already?”

“I’m due on shift.” Emma motioned to the door with her thumb.

“Oh, okay.” Belle glanced to the front door and then back to Emma. “Try and have a good day.”

Emma unsurely looked back to the kitchen, an unsure smile on her face, and her farewell to them all as she neared the door. “Later, everyone.”

“Bye, babe.” Neal called through.

Hearing his son call Emma, ‘ _Babe’_ , Rumald turned his head to look at his son, who was beaming a smile and waving to Emma in the foyer. In the foyer, he heard the distinct sound of the front door opening, and seconds later, felt a wisp of cold air sweep over his bare feet. The front door closed, as Rumald saw the unguarded emotion on his son’s face. It was nice to see his son so happy, opening himself up to the joy of love. Though, by putting himself in the firing line of love, Rumald hoped Neal was strong enough to take the shot, which Emma would hopefully fire soon.

“Hey, you.” Belle crooned, as she reached up to the back of his head and combed her fingers though his hair.

Sliding his arm around her waist, Rumald drew her closer to kiss her. “Morning.”

“Coffee, Belle?” Neal inquired, whilst he reached across the kitchen island, delivering his father’s coffee.

“One sugar, no milk, please, Neal.” Belle told him.

Rumald slid his coffee cup closer to him, while Neal nodded his head, to acknowledge Belle’s order, and turned away to make her drink. Lowering his gaze to where the flaps of his dressing gown overlapped, Rumald easily spied down into the valley of Belle’s breasts, smirking as the memory of last night came back to him.

Monday night had been a rush of stripping clothes, clumsy kisses and a sprint for ecstasy. Last night, Rumald had lavished her with attention. He had tried to kissed every inch of her skin, wanting to worship her, grateful she had chosen to go with what her heart wanted. Her hands had reached to touch him, again and again. Every time, he had thwarted her attempts, making it all about her. It may have been part of his self-loathing, but he wanted her to have all of the pleasure. God knows, for the things he had done and things he was willing to do, Rumald did not deserve to feel an ounce of pleasure. He would have been satisfied with just pleasing Belle. Nonetheless, the deep animalistic need to claim her and have her, releasing his seed into her, was too strong to ignore. The thing that gave him solace, when he was striving for his own release, was that she would take satisfaction in it. Unlike Milah and Cora, Belle appeared to care.

Shaking his depressing thoughts away, Rumald squeezed her against him, saying to her. “I’m going to pop back upstairs and get showered and dressed. If you want anything, just ask Neal.”

“Okay.” She smiled at him.

He returned her smile and dipped his head to kiss her again. Her hand, which had lingered on his shoulder, clasped at the back of his head, keeping him from backing away from her. Belle further their kiss, titling her head to the side, nipping at his lower lip. Encircling his other arm around her, Rumald gave into her, opening his mouth to her, tentatively meeting her tongue. Her other arm wrapped around his neck, hanging herself from his neck, whilst they kissed.

“Coffee, Belle.” Neal stated.

Belle ripped her lips away from Rumald’s, leaving him to kiss the air, as she gave Neal an embarrassed look. “Thank you. Sorry.”

“It’s okay.” Neal waved off her apology, and picked up the box of cereal, he had gotten earlier from the cupboard.

Rumald chuckled at her and kissed her forehead, and said. “I’ll be back in a minute.”

Picking up his coffee, he edged away from Belle and escaped up the stairs. Whilst he was ascending the stairs, Rumald could hear Belle and Neal begin to chat in the kitchen, and stopped to listen. With his hand on the banister, he inclined himself over the banister, looking down into the foyer as though he could see them in the kitchen. His eyebrows squeezed together, at the unusual pain he felt in his gut. Listening to them talk, Rumald was apprehensive about them talking, though he had no reason to be. The times they had met, they had gotten on fine. It puzzled Rumald, why he felt anxious. Belle was not like Cora. And Rumald would be damned, if he ignored his son after all the hard work and grovelling he had done, to win back his son’s affections.

Rumald drank from his coffee as he started up the stairs again, ignoring the ache in his gut. He went to his bedroom and diverted himself straight into the bathroom, where he stopped in front of the mirror to look at himself, while he set his cup down beside the sink. Gazing at himself, it was hard for him not to survey his reflection. His beard was grey, his hair was slowly going grey, and he looked old. Whatever Belle saw in him, whatever attracted her, he would never understand. Though, he never understood, what attracted all the other women in his life, either.

Finishing off the last button of his waistcoat, Rumald then claimed his suit jacket to put it on and grabbed his empty cup from the chest of draws. He swept his gaze around his room as he headed to his bedroom door, looking for anything out of place. With nothing astray, his bed immaculate made, the curtains drawn, Rumald was happy to leave his room. He closed the door behind him and set off down the hallway to the stairs. Near the top of the stairs, music was filtering up the stairs from downstairs. Intrigued, he again, looked over the banister downstairs, while he headed to take the stairs to his study. Rumald wondered, what they could possibly be doing downstairs, but shrugged the thought away, taking the stairs to the third floor.

He came down the stairs into the foyer, holding his phone to his ear, listening to it ring, and traipsed through into the kitchen. Neither Belle or Neal were in the kitchen. Glancing back, he wondered if they were in the living room, as the person he was calling answered.

“Good morning, sir.” Dove said.

“You know, how I’ve talked about turning the old picture house into a venue centre?” Rumald was straight to business.

“Yes.” Was Dove’s only response.

Rumald negotiated the kitchen to the sink, delivering his cup to the sink, while he said. “I need you to start making enquiries into the things we’ll need. Materials, sound system, suppliers, what licenses we’ll need, that sort of thing. Look into it and get back to me.”

“Of course, sir.” Dove ended the call.

Slipping his phone into the inside pocket of his suit jacket, Rumald pivoted round, intrigue as to where Belle and Neal had gone. He moseyed over to the entrance to the dining room, popped his head around the corner, only to see they were not there. His brow hunched down over his eyes, as he detoured through the dining room and into the living room. They were not there either. Rumald turned the music down, listening intently to the house for their voices. Nothing. ‘ _They couldn’t have gone outside.’_ , he decided, as he walked through the living room to the foyer, his eyes immediately on front door. Scratching absently at this beard, Rumald could not bring himself to believe, that Belle would go outside in his dressing gown. One, it was too cold. Two, she was not the sort of woman, in his mind, who would do such a thing. Unlike her best friend, who hardly wore anything, most of the time.

His gaze rose to look at the stairs, even though, he knew they were not upstairs. He would have heard them earlier, when he was up there and he would have seen them. There was only one other place in the house, they could be, where he possibly could not hear them. Taking a few steps towards the kitchen, Rumald looked down the small corridor, which led to the cupboard under the stairs and to the basement door, which was open. Why they would be downstairs, was beyond Rumald, but he followed regardless.

It was on the second step of the stairs, he heard his son say to Belle. “Yeah, it’s a shame, but they’ve been down here for years.”

“He should have them on display.” Belle remarked.

“They used to be on display in the dining room.” Neal informed her.

“I guess after she left him, he packed it all up and put them all down here. Didn’t want the reminder.” She hypothesised, hitting the nail on the head.

From what they had said, Rumald could guess, they were surveying the boxes of trophies, he had stored down in the basement. A lot of the trophies were broken or damaged, taking some of the wrath, he had delivered to the display case. Rumald slumped against the banister, closing his eyes, as he remembered the vividly remembered the night in question. Coming home from the competition had been hell. He had been so angry. Probably the angriest, he had ever been in his life. Reining that in, for his trip home from New York, had been hard. Countless times, Rumald had wanted to rip someone’s head off, who had innocently crossed his path. When he had gotten home, safe in his sanctuary, the floodgates had open and Rumald had to let it all out, destroying the one prominent reminder of her.

“Something like that.” Neal said and went on to say. “The neighbours were too scared to check on him. Told me, they heard yelling and things smashing.”

“You weren’t here?” Belle asked.

There was a pause before Neal answered. “After she moved in, I stayed away from the house.”

“You stayed away? It was that bad?” She questioned his son.

“He was different with her.” Neal paused. “She brought out the worst in him.”

Rumald remembered, when Neal had come to his shop, skipping school, begging Rumald to end things with Cora. At the time, he had refused to listen to his son, ushering him out of the shop and back to school. Neal had fought with him. His fingers had crawled at the sleeves of Rumald’s suit, desperate for his father to hear him. Seeing his son like that, frantic and losing control of himself, had torn Rumald’s heart open. Every day, Rumald wished to go back to that moment, force himself to listen to his son’s concerns and then go home, to throw the bitch out of his house. Instead, his loneliness and cowardice had allowed Cora to come between them, and he hated himself for it.

“I couldn’t imagine him being any different.” Belle told Neal.

Neal scoffed. “Believe me, he can be darker. And what’s scary, is that he enjoys it.”

“Maybe… But, at least, he saw the error of his ways and made amends with you.” Belle said.

“You really like him, don’t you?” Neal put to Belle, changing the topic of their conversation.

“I love him.” She beamed proudly.

The front doorbell rang. “Oh, that must be Ruby!” Belle exclaimed. “Excuse me.”

Hastily, Rumald leapt up the two steps and exited into the foyer. Tugging down his waistcoat, composing himself, he came out of the small corridor and crossed to the front door. On the other side of the glass, he could see Ruby stood on his porch, lingering close to his front door. Rumald unlocked the front door and opened it. Abruptly, the edge of the door came close to hitting Rumald in the face.

“Oh my God!” Ruby proclaimed on entering his house, carrying a plastic bag, Grannies logo printed on the side of it, and dragging a small suitcase through the door behind her. “It’s so cold out there!”

Rumald eyed her attire – a thin zip up hoodie (unzipped), a t-shirt, short mini skirt, thin tights – not exactly dressed for the winter weather, as he closed the door. “Maybe, if you wore appropriate attire, you wouldn’t feel the cold, dearie.”

“Watch it, Gold.” Ruby held the plastic Grannies bag up. “I’ve brought you breakfast.”

“Ah, thanks, Ruby. You’re a lifesaver.” Belle said after coming out from the small corridor, followed by Neal.

Ruby looked at Belle and grinned. “You dirty stop out.”

“Shut up.” Belle held her hand out. “Give me my case.”

“I put a few extra things in there for you.” Ruby said, grinning, as she held the handle of the suitcase for Belle to take.

“What… Extra things?” Belle questioned, hesitant to take the handle from Ruby.

Ruby waggled her eyebrows to Belle’s question. Dragging the suitcase closer, Belle eyed the suspicious suitcase down at her feet. Captivate by the exchange, Rumald’s own interest in the suitcase had been aroused.

“Something smells good.” Neal strolled passed Belle to Ruby and took the plastic Grannies bag from his old friend.

“Yours is at the bottom.” Ruby pointed the bottom of the bag. “Grannie’s put some extra bits in for you.”

Neal licked his lips. “If I was man enough for her, I’d marry her for her cooking.”

“I’m going to go and get dressed. Be right back.” Belle told them, retracting the handle back into her suitcase, and picked her suitcase up by the carry handle.

Ruby and Neal wandered off into the kitchen, oblivious to Belle climbing the stairs, while Rumald was left stood in the foyer, keenly watching Belle ascend the stairs. Taking a couple of steps to get a better view of her, when she rounded the newel to climb the longer staircase to the second floor, he caught Belle’s eye. She smiled fondly at him. Following her with his eyes, Rumald sighed happily, feeling contended for the first time, in a long time.


	45. Chapter 45

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Rumald and Belle arrive at the hotel in New York.

The limousine pulled up to the front of the hotel. Rumald was admiring Belle, whose face was glued to the passenger door window, staring in wonder at Central Park, directly across from the hotel. New York was just another city to Rumald. But to Belle, it was full of wonder, and she was giddy with the prospect of discovering it. She had bought herself a tourist guide at the airport, using it for reference, when she spotted something on their journey from the airport to the hotel. Countless times already, he had to verify, whatever she had seen out the window with what was in her book. A few times, he had nudged her, gesturing to his car window, so she could see something from his window. Though, to be honest, some of the things he had pointed out to her, were not in her tourist book, and he had only done it, because he enjoyed her lying across his lap, almost clambering over him, to get to his window.

Rumald’s door opened and Rumald turned his head to see the driver, Ray, standing beside the door. Wrapping the flaps of his overcoat closed, Rumald stepped out of the limousine, sweeping his gaze over the entry way to see the usual people. There was a small huddle of Japanese tourists, excitedly chattering to themselves, pointing vicariously in different directions and at the map, they were all holding. An elderly couple were stood near the entry doors, the man appeared bored, while his wife clutched a small dog under her arm, issuing orders to her husband. There were some business people dotted about, waiting for cabs or stood outside having a cigarette, while they were on their phones. Did not matter what day it was, what month it was, or time of year, it was always the same, when Rumald was in New York.

Stepping aside from the door, Rumald turned and offered his hand into the car. “Come on, sweetheart.”

“Did you know; Central Park is bigger than Monaco?” She asked, inside of the limo.

“No, I didn’t.” He said to her, slightly bending at his waist to see her, nose buried inside of her book.

Belle made noise, her interest was perked by something in her book. “Supposedly, they used more gunpowder was used in Central Park, than at the Battle of Gettysburg.”

“I’ll be using some gunpowder in a minute, to get you out of this limo.” Rumald said dryly.

There was a chuckle beside him. Straightening his back, Rumald zeroed his gaze on Ray, who could not hide his amusement, even though he tried his best to look anywhere, but at Rumald. Belle mumbled off another fact, from inside the car, making no attempt to exit it.

“Belle,” He crooned, angling himself to see her inside the limo. “Maybe, you’d like to exit the limo? I think Ray’s got some other pickups to do.”

“Oh, sorry!” Belle jumped into action, bouncing across the backseat to exit on Rumald’s side of the car.

Standing up and out of the car, she smiled sweetly at Rumald and then at their driver. As Rumald edged himself round, giving her room, he placed his hand on the small of her back, guiding her away from the limousine. Over the top of Belle’s head, Rumald caught sight of the smirk on Ray’s face. When their gazes met, Ray quickly removed his smirk, pressing his lips into a tight thin line, to hide his amusement from Rumald.

Belle wandered a couple of steps away from Rumald, gushing at the entrance way to the hotel. While he peeled back his overcoat, to retrieve his money clip, from his pocket, Rumald gazed round at the entry way, trying to see what had captured her. To Rumald, the entryway was quite bland. The entryway of the hotel, they had stayed at in Boston, had been much grander than Park Lane’s entry. But to Belle, seeing it for the first time, Rumald could only be jealous of her awe, as she gradually turned round, taking in everything around her. He pulled a ten-dollar bill from his money clip and handed it to Ray, thinking how he could not remember being like Belle.

When Rumald and Milah had moved to New York, he could not recall playing tourist with her. Focus on drumming up business, and striving to prove himself, better than his father, Rumald had lost sight for the little pleasures in life. They had been meaningless, unless they had served a purpose or got him closer to his goal.

“Thank you, sir.” Ray tipped his head to Rumald, pocketing the tip, Rumald had given to him.

Rumald returned his money clip to his pocket, and took the few steps to re-join Belle. A step away from her, she immediately turned to face him, as though she felt his approach, and grinned at him. He could not help, but smile at her. Putting his arm around her, bringing her into his side, Rumald leaned into her and kissed her head. As they walked to the door, Belle slipped her arm around him, bumping her hip into his as they walked.

A bellhop lingered by the revolving doors, their two bags on the large trolley behind him. Rumald used his arm around Belle, to steer her towards the revolving doors, while he nodded his head at bellhop, who proceeded them into the hotel, taking the normal door instead. She glanced back at Rumald, her excitement glistening in her eyes, as Belle was enveloped into a section of the revolving doors. Rumald took the next section. On the other side of the glass partition, she exited her section into the small foyer, gazing round the white marble entryway. Seconds later, Rumald stepped out of the revolving door, standing close behind Belle, while she looked at the majestic wall lights, hung on the columns in front of them.

The bellhop was waiting close by. Rumald approached him, retrieving a tip from his pocket, and handed it over to the young man. “Thank you, but I’ll take the bags.”

“No problem, sir.” The bellhop took the tip, stuffing it into his pocket. “If you require anything, sir, please don’t hesitate to ask for me, Jax.”

“I’ll bear it in mind.” Rumald frowned at the young man’s name, as he collected his carryon bag and Belle’s suitcase.

Rumald pulled out the handle on Belle’s suitcase, while he shouldered the strap for his carryon bag, holding the bag back, to sit more behind him, and dragged Belle’s suitcase over to her. She had moved passed the columns, and was admiring the Christmas decorations, the staff had wrapped on the banister of the stairs. It was not anything, which Rumald would have found fascinating, but he would admit, it was festive.

“Come on, sweetheart.” He called to her, traipsing through the foyer, heading to the elevators.

Belle turned her head in his direction, flicking her luscious curls over her shoulder, and skipped a couple of steps to catch up with him. Glancing back at her, he gave her a reassuring smile and turned his gaze back, leading her to the hallway with the elevators, that also led to the other entrance for the hotel. After taking the corner, into hallway, Rumald halted and pressed the call button for the elevator, his eyes immediately went to the indicator on the wall, to see elevator B was on its way back down. He moved from elevator A to B, pulling Belle’s case behind him. The elevator pinged and the doors open, whilst Rumald adjusted the strap on his shoulder, for his carryon bag. Waving his arm to the elevator, he waited until Belle was inside, clutching the handle of her handbag with both of her hands, huddled into the corner, and stepped in beside her, parking her suitcase in front of him. He pressed the button for forty-sixth floor, and rested his hands on top of the handle, for Belle’s suitcase, while they waited for three suits to get into the elevator with them.

One of the three suits eyed Belle, giving her a suggestive smile, while the other two suits discussed something, which involved a guy called Michaels. The doors jumped into action, sliding into place. From the corner of Rumald’s eye, he observed the sleaze ball, as he checked out Belle, angling his head, for a better view of her backside. The old Rumald would have shot across the elevators, thrust his hand into the man’s neck, choking the life out of him. Instead, he tightened his grip on the handle of Belle’s suitcase, imagining it was the Critten’s neck.

The elevator gently jolted to a stop, pinged and elevator doors opened. The two, discussing Michaels, exited the elevator. Their friend, leisurely exited the elevator, making the most of his time, to imprint an image of Belle for later. Oblivious to the attention she was getting, Belle rummaged inside of her handbag, cursing to herself, as she had to move the books and other items aside, trying to find her phone. Very away, of the attention she was getting, Rumald repressed the button for their floor, encouraging the doors to close sooner, cutting off the view of her. Once the doors were closed, he relaxed back against the wall of the elevator, letting his gaze drift round to Belle, watching her as she used her phone.

Again, the elevator gently jolted to a stop, pinged and elevator doors opened to their floor. Belle returned her phone to her handbag, smiling when her gaze met with Rumald’s. Gesturing with his hand to the open door, Belle led the way out of the elevator and waited outside of it for Rumald.

“This way.” Rumald directed Belle to go right, hauling her case behind him. “Room 621.”

At the end of the three elevators, Rumald took the turning on the right, glancing back to check Belle was behind him, and at the end of that hallway, turned right for the third time. The hallway was short and they were at the double doors, to his room, in seconds. Parking her suitcase, Rumald slipped his hand into the inside pocket of his overcoat, and procured his key for his room. He slid the key into the lock, pulled it out, and tried the handle. A red light on top of the slot for the key card flashed.

“I hate these things.” He grumbled under his breath, trying the key again.

This time, when he pushed the door handle down, the light flashed green, granting them access to the room. Shoving the door open, Rumald dragged her suitcase in behind him, keeping the door open for her. Belle followed him inside and sidestepped by him, her eyes widened at his room.

“This is…” She muttered, losing the ability to speak.

Rumald rolled her case behind him, as he went through into the main part of his suite, leaving her alone in the foyer of his suite. Glancing back, he chuckled at her, taking in the décor of the foyer, and went through into main bedroom of the suite, leaving her suitcase parked between the two doors, leading to either bedroom. He left the case there, because he did not want to presume, that she would want to share the same room as him. The train wrecks of his previous relationships, made him cautious. Rushing things, and giving himself so willingly, had only brought him heartache. Even though, Rumald did not believe, Belle would purposely hurt him, what they had, was too precious to him. The choice had to be hers.

And hopefully, her choice would soothe his insecurities.

He removed the strap of his carryon, and set the bag down on the desk, where he had left his laptop and other paperwork set up. Moving to one of the two armchairs in the room, Rumald shrugged off his overcoat and laid it over the back of the armchair.

“This view is amazing!” Belle exclaimed, from the part of the suite.

At hearing her, Rumald lifted his gaze to look out the window, while he removed his suit jacket, taking his phone from it, and laid it to join his overcoat. It was a spectacular view of Central Park. An ocean of luscious green, broken up by the teasing glimpses of the lakes and the buildings, hidden in the canopy of the trees. His brow raised at the view, struck by the urban setting, that surrounded the large expanse of green. Belle was right. It was amazing, which was sad, as Rumald had been overlooking it, every time he had stayed at the hotel.

“Where have you gone?” She questioned. “This place is too big.”

Rumald ambled back to the doorway of the bedroom. “I’m here.”

Belle smiled at him, seeing him in the doorway, stood by one of the large windows. “This place is amazing.”

“It suits a purpose.” He commented, unlocking his phone to look at his emails.

“Rumald,” He looked up to meet her gaze again. “Look at this suite, it’s exquisite, and this view!” She spun round to the window and gaze out of it. “You can’t beat this view!”

A sly smile formed on his face. “I much prefer the view in front of me.”

Belle looked at him, uncertain of his meaning, though when she saw his smile, her shoulders slumped with her returning his smile. “Such a charmer.”

“I’m not trying to charm you, sweetheart.” He was honest with her. “Just telling you the truth.”

She made short work, of crossing the large room to him, and wrapped her arms around his neck, with his own snaking around her, and kissed him. Leaning back within his embrace, she touched her hand to the side of his face, stroking her thumb over his cheek and beard. They gazed into one another’s eyes. Mutually, they both leant their heads forward, about to kiss again, when Rumald’s phone shrilled to life in his hand. With a groan, Rumald unwrapped his arm from her, to see it was Marco calling him.

“I need to take this, sweetheart.” Rumald told her, though his arm, wrapped around her, clutched her tighter against him, not wanting to let go of her.

“It’s okay. I’m not going anywhere.” She assured him and kissed him.

He answered, while she had kissed him, and then held the phone to his ear, as he walked back into the main bedroom. “What’s the word, Marco?”

“I’m waiting to hear back from a few of them, but the majority have said they will, as long as they have your offer in writing. With it being so close to the Christmas, a lot of them are giving up work or their holiday. So, they want some assurances.” Marco explained to him.

“My word isn’t good enough?” Rumald asked, thinking how bizarre it was, for people to question his word: He never broke a deal.

“It’s not about your word.” Marco told him. “It’s just times are hard at the minute, for a lot of the guys. They don’t want to be turning down work, with the promise of a big pay out, and then they’re out of pocket.”

Rumald huffed out a breath through his nose, understanding exactly how they felt. “Okay, I’ll quickly draw up an agreement and email it to you.”

“Thank you, Mr Gold.” Marco said.

Ending the call, Rumald pulled out the chair from the desk, turning on his laptop as he sat down at the desk, laying his phone on the desk. While he laptop turned on, Rumald unzipped his carryon bag, to pull out the file on the old picture house and some other paperwork, he had brought with him. One handed, Rumald typed his password into his laptop, as he put the file and paperwork, with the other paperwork already on his desk.

“Rumald, why’s my suitcase here?” Belle asked.

Twisting to see her, stood outside of the doorway, looking at her suitcase, finger pointing at her case, Rumald explained. “I thought, you might want your own space, and I didn’t want to presume, that you’d be sharing a bed with me.”

Her features softened as she looked at him, with her shoulders slumping. Belle grabbed the handle of her suitcase, and dragged it into the main bedroom, taking it across to the king size bed, to put it onto the bed. He had followed her with his gaze, and was smiling stupidly, as she unzipped her suitcase to remove some of her things. Turning to go into the bathroom, Belle’s gaze met with Rumald’s. She shook her head at him, smiling at him. His smile widened to reveal his crooked teeth, while Belle went into their ensuite bathroom. Rumald turned his head back to his laptop, with his heart gushing at her choosing him.

Scrunching his brow, Rumald spaced out, staring at the screen of his laptop, hating how weak he could be. No matter, how hard, he tried not to be that scrawny, helpless little boy. Rumald could not escape him. Even though, he had come so far, it did not seem to matter. The boy, he had been, loitered in the background, but was very much in the forefront of Rumald’s mind. Just wanting to be accepted, welcomed with open arms, instead of having doors slammed in his face. The fear of being alone, had been very real to Rumald, when he had been a child. But, as he grew up, Rumald had found, the only thing he could rely on was himself and his darker side. Embracing it, like a lifelong friend. That was when things had changed for Rumald. People had begun to notice him. The kind, he should never have gotten involved with. Nonetheless, he had made shady deals with them, done things he should not have done, and had started to be noticed by those, that could have taken him down an even darker path. If it had not have been for his aunts, Rumald probably would have ended up in prison, or worse, dead.

Belle cried out. “Ruby!”

“What?” Rumald was jolted from his deep reverie, and snapped his head to look at her, stood at the foot of the bed.

“I can’t wear this!” She stepped round, holding up the dress Ruby had packed for her.

Focusing his attention on the bright red dress, Rumald eyed the length of the dress, if that was what it was, sure it would barely cover Belle’s modesty. He squinted his gaze at it. The dress was not very Belle. It was more Ruby’s style, than Belle’s.

Belle shook the dress in her hands. “This is her ‘fuck’ dress.”

“Excuse me?” His eyes widened at her.

“In her words, she’s always guarantee a fuck, when we go out and she wears this dress.” She informed him, waving the dress around in one of her hands.

Rumald really did not know what to say, and it seemed it did not matter, as Belle carried on, stepping back to gesture at her case. “She hid in the bottom of my case – condoms, lubricant, massage oil, and… toys.” Her mouth dropped open, before she turned back to Rumald, to say. “What if security had stopped me and checked my case? How would I…? What would I have said?”

“They’ve probably seen worse.” He could not help the smirk on his face.

“This isn’t funny!” Belle threatened him with her finger. “I’m going to kill her!”

“Belle,” Rumald shifted on his chair to face her. “It’s fine. Let’s me write this and email it, and we’ll go and buy you dress. We’ve got plenty of time.”

Her brow creased at him. “Are you sure?”

“Course.” He told her, showing her half a smile.

Uncaring for the dress in her hand, Belle tossed it onto the bed behind her, and rushed over to Rumald to hug him. She threw herself at him, sitting down onto his lap, burying her face into the side of his neck. Contented, Rumald hid his face into the side of her neck, her hair and her sweet smell surrounding him. He tightly held his arms around her, thankful she was here with him, that she had chosen him.

“I’m going to make a tea. Do you want one?” She asked, leaning back in his arms.

“Coffee, please.” Rumald told her, lowering his hands to cup her backside and her thigh.

Belle touched her hand to his face. “I love you.”

“I love you too.” He smirked.

She smiled, as she leant into him and met his lips with her own. Her fingers carded through his hair, lightly scratching at the base of his head. Digging his fingers into her thigh and backside, Rumald pressed her hip further into him, thoroughly enjoying their sweet, but simple, kiss. Belle titled her head forward, gently resting her forehead against his, her eyes closed, while her fingers continued to play with his hair, teasing him with her nails. Rumald studied her face, unbelieving, this beautiful woman could ever want a man as ugly as he was.

“I’m going to make that drink, before I get distracted with kissing you.” Belle apprised him, as she moved her hands to rest on his shoulders, supporting herself, whilst she shifted off of his lap and stood up to leave.

Unable to stop himself from smiling, he followed her out of the room with his eyes, twisting his head to see her go. Once she was gone, Rumald budged himself round to face his desk, and opened a word document on his laptop. His fingers tapped at the keys of his laptop, drawing out the agreement in no time. He paused to think, unconsciously playing with the hair on his chin.

“Here you go.” Belle announced, placing a cup of coffee on the desk, safely away from his paperwork.

“Thank you.” He said to her, his gaze captured by Belle.

On her way out of the bedroom, she glanced back at him, showing him a quick smile, and disappeared in the main room of the suite. Rereading what he had already written, Rumald picked up his coffee and took a cautious sip from it. He returned his cup to the desk, and rapidly typed out a section of clauses, before he added his signature to the bottom of the agreement. He added a signature line for Marco and another, for whoever Marco employed. Saving it, Rumald picked up his coffee again, drinking it, as he created an email, attached the agreement, and wrote a brief blurb of an email to Marco, stating the signed copies had to be taken to the shop. He clicked ‘send’ and the email disappeared, revealing his inbox, which had repopulated itself, showing he had more emails.

Squinting at his emails, Rumald sorted through them, deleting and saving the ones, he wanted for later. His eyebrow rose at another important email from Rachel. He clicked to open it, to skim over the contents, and swiftly deleted it. Another email, hoping ‘ _to see you at Jefferson’s opening’_. If it was not for Jefferson, being so stressed, he would not have been attending.

Though, Jefferson had been anxious, he had been on the ball, making sure everything was how he wanted it, ordering around the shop fitters they had employed. Grace and Rumald had spent, most of the last two days, organising the stock room and picking out an assortment of dresses and suits to be displayed. Course, Jefferson had gone through their selection, throwing out the majority of their choices, to choose his own selection from the stock. Rumald had stood on the side line, taking the chance to check out an online auction, while father and daughter had bickered over the choices. Hopefully, the two had managed to get everything finished, ready for tonight. Rumald was taking it, as a good sign, that he had received no phone calls or messages, from either of them.

“So!” Belle slid her hands down his chest, from his shoulders, stooping over his shoulder to see his face. “Can we go out now?”

Chuckling, Rumald put his coffee cup down, and captured her right hand with his free hand. “Yes.”

“I’ve had a look, a couple of blocks from here, there’s a Next store.” She informed him.

“Next?” He questioned.

“It’s in my price range and it’s close.” She told him, standing up to edge round into his view.

He pulled a curious face, but it was gone in a flash, covered by his mask. “Okay, whatever you want, sweetheart.”

Soon, they had left the suite, and were travelling down in the elevator, hand in hand, stood at the back of the elevator. While Belle was messaging Ruby, threatening to cut up the ‘fuck’ dress, Rumald gazed at her beside him, smirking at her. It was such a nice feeling, to have her stood next to him, clasping his hand, their fingers laced together. Turning his head to the front of the elevator, he could not remember it being like this Cora. They never held hands. The only affection she had shown him, was in the bedroom or in random places, that had taken her fancy. With Milah, Rumald had held hands with her, but rarely. Mostly, when she did not want to lose him in a crowd, or if it suited her at the time. What was nice, about holding Belle’s hand, was he had not initiated the contact. She had taken his hand, threaded her fingers with his, while they had walked away from the suite.

As before, the elevator softly jolted to a stop, pinged, and the doors opened onto the ground floor. Belle lifted her gaze from her phone, and then slipped it into the back pocket of her jeans. They walked out of the elevator, and tried to go in different directions, with Belle turning left, going back to the entrance, they had come through earlier, and Rumald tried to go right.

“This way.” Rumald urged, jutting his head in the direction he wanted to go.

She gave him a questioning look, but came back to him, trusting him to lead her the right way. Giving her hand a squeeze, he led the way to the other entrance of the hotel, bringing them out onto fifty-eighth street. They walked to the intersection, where fifty-eighth street met with fifth avenue, and turned towards the Next store, Belle had found a few blocks away. Across the street, she pointed out the fashion designer stores – Bergdorf and Goodman, Hublot, Louis Vuitton. Rumald nodded his head at her, admiring the astonishment on her face. Absolutely flabbergasted, her gaze was on the stores, instead of watching where she was going.

“Do you want to go in?” He motioned to the stores, by hooking his thumb in their direction.

“Oh, no, no.” Belle forcefully shook her head at him.

Scrunching his brow at her, he tried to urge her. “It’s fine to walk around them. We can go and have a look.”

“I’d rather not.” She told him, slightly pulling a face at his offer. “I wouldn’t want to see the prices in there. My monthly salary wouldn’t cover it.” She breathed out heavily. “Though, my monthly salary doesn’t really cover anything.”

Rumald halted and pulled Belle to a stop. “If you’re having problems, you should’ve said.”

“I’m not having problems. I just have to watch, what I’m doing.” She explained to him.

“Well, is there anything I can do to help? I can pay for your lodgings, if that helps?” Rumald offered, gesturing to himself with his free hand.

Belle touched his face. “No.” She smiled. “But I really appreciate you asking.”

“You only need to tell me, Belle.” He urged her to accept his offer.

“I love that you want to take care of me. It’s a nice change.” She confessed to him, shuffling her feet closer to him, bringing her other hand to cup his face in her hands, and tiptoed up to kiss him.

As she kissed him, Rumald placed his hands on her hips and said to her. “I’m serious.”

“I know.” Belle stroked her thumb over his cheek and kissed him again.

Nodding her head, in the direction they had been heading, they started off again and Belle retook his hand, lacing their fingers together. Again, he was surprised by the contact, and glanced down to their joined hands, for a split second.

They crossed the intersection and were approaching the next intersection, when the Armani and Dolce & Gabbana stores caught his eye, on the opposite side of the street. Rumald pouted his lips. The impulse to check out their new selection, of suits and shirts, struck him. Spying at Belle beside him, unaware of his thought, as she glanced down the street at the traffic slowing to stop at the intersection. A bout of madness hit him – Dragging Belle by their joined hands, he pulled her out into the street, quickening his step to miss the cars and anyone else, who might spot them for jaywalking. Belle let out a squeak of surprise. Rumald glanced back, smirking, hauling her across the street to the other sidewalk. She skipped a couple of steps, doing her best to keep up with him, clutching at his hand for her life.

They hopped up the kerb together, their pace stayed quick, heading straight into the Armani store. There were a few people watching them, grumbling under their breath at them. Rumald did not care. The goofy smile on Belle’s face was worth it.

“You’re so naughty.” She reprimanded him, swatting her hand into his upper arm.

“That was child’s play.” Yanking her closer, Rumald caught her, wrapping his arms around her, and said into her ear. “I’ll have to show you how naughty I can be.”

Belle giggled at him, whilst he tightened his hold around her, kissing her cheek, while they entered the store. This time, Rumald took hold of Belle’s hand, claiming her, and led her around the large sculpture, which was also the staircase to the floor below. He looked back at her, to see her pulling a puzzled face at the sculpture/staircase. Stroking his thumb over the back of her hand, her gaze moved from the stairs to Rumald, who encouraged her to come on with a nod of his head. She gave the stairs on last look, and then matched Rumald’s pace. They went through to the back of the shop, and headed up the stairs at the rear of the shop, which was another sculpture, and took the stairs to the top floor of the shop.

“Rumald, I said I couldn’t afford anything in these stores.” Belle reminded him, as they climbed the steps to the second floor.

“I want to have a look.” He shared with her, and stopped on the landing for the second floor. “Though, while you’re here, why don’t you have a look, while I quickly glance around upstairs. I’ll only be a couple of minutes.”

“I’d rather come with you.” She told him, tightening her grip on his hand.

He half grinned at her. His chest puffed with pride, loving every inch of the woman, stood so close to him, he could smell her perfume. Yet, it was so hard to shake his disbelief, that she would ever truly want him. There was a whole world out there for her. Belle could have any man she wanted, though they would never deserve her, never be worthy of her love. Rumald breathed in, enforcing the mask he wore, deciding he would make the most of their time together. Soon, Belle would realise her mistake and leave him, kicking him to the kerb, where he ought to have stayed, all those years ago.

Belle’s eyebrows pressed slightly down over her eyes, questioning something, she had seen in Rumald’s face. Before she could query what was wrong, Rumald preceded to the next set of stairs, avoiding her gaze, and climbed the steps with Belle a step behind him. Knowing the store, Rumald went directly to where the shirt selection was located, and perused through the selection.

Though, he slid the shirts across on the rail, Rumald was torturing himself, imaging how she would leave him. He doubted, she would want to do it publicly, as Cora had done to him. She would not be a coward, like Milah had been. Leaving without a word, until Rumald had tracked her down to a motel by the airport, cosying up with her new man, planning to jet off the next day. Belle would… Do it to his face, unafraid to lay the truth before him. She would be strong, confident, as she told him, she could not love him. Never had loved him. He was just her excuse to get away from Gaston. And his heart would break into a million pieces, watching her walk out of the door, strutting away with no care.

Rumald dipped his head, closing his eyes, begging the pain in his chest to go away. ‘ _Who am I kidding?’_ , he said to himself. Caution had been thrown to the wind a long time ago. He had fallen head over heels in love with her, diving straight into a relationship with her, exposing his underbelly to her. What he should have done, was built a wall, strengthened his defences, keeping her out and his heart protected.

“Hey,” Belle touched his shoulder, waking him from his thoughts. “You okay?”

He faked a smile for her. “I’m fine, sweetheart.”

“You’ve got a really sad look on your face.” She informed him, moving her hand from his shoulder to touch his face.

“Just tired.” Rumald glanced round the store, then gestured back to the stairs. “Let’s get out of here.”

“Okay.” She said, though she did not look convinced.

As they were coming out of the store, Rumald’s phone shrieked to life, begging for his attention. Slipping his hand into the inside pocket of his suit jacket, Rumald pulled out his phone and answered it, as Belle grabbed his hand. He glanced down at their hands, needing to see the truth with his eyes.

“Marco.” Rumald answered.

“I take it, you’ve got the original blueprints for the building and the blueprints for what you want?” Marco asked, formalities forgotten.

Rumald let Belle lead him, as he replied to Marco. “I’ve the originals and I’ll have the plans drawn up for Monday.”

“Okay, can we arrange to do a site walk through? Early Monday morning?” Marco sounded distracted.

“Seven?” Rumald suggested.

“Seven sharp.” Marco agreed. “As soon as we’re done. The boys are ready to start work. I’ll get your contracts signed and deliver them to the shop tonight.”

Rumald nodded his head. “Dove’s making inquiries into supplies and such. If you have thoughts or questions, contact him.”

“Okay, Mr Gold.” Marco ended the call. 

Holding the flap to his overcoat open, Rumald tucked his phone back into the inside pocket of his suit jacket, as Belle said. “Things are moving quickly.”

“They need to.” He said, straightening his overcoat. “Otherwise, Regina’s exhibition will have to be cancelled.”

“It’s that bad?” Belle inquired.

Rumald turned his head to look at her, hearing the sad undertone to her short question. Yesterday, promising Regina to help her find a venue, was his own selfish need for redemption. At hearing Belle’s tone, it had suddenly become more than that. Now, it was his mission to make this work for Regina, refusing to allow Belle to become disappointed by it. Rumald had thought, Belle was only taking part to help Regina out. Hearing the gloomy undertone, he realised it was more than that to Belle. Not only had she fallen in love with him… He paused at such a foreign thought, crossing his mind.

“That’s a beautiful dress.” Belle commented, gesturing to the dress in the store window.

Looking to the store display, Rumald saw a mannequin dressed in a short dark blue cady dress, posed with a back handbag hanging on its arm. He slowed his step and came to a stop, taking in the dress, which had caught Belle’s eye. Moving closer to him and the window, Belle ran her eyes over the dress and bit her lip at it. Rumald peered out of the corner his eye at Belle. Her eyes were eagerly taking in the ruche detailing, that finished off the hem and sleeves of the dress. He could see, she wanted it.

“Why don’t you try it on?” He suggested.

“I couldn’t possibly.” Belle shook her head, yet she could not take her eyes off of the dress.

Rumald stepped round her, so he was behind her, and whispered into her ear. “Forget your worries about money.” He slipped his arms around her, holding her against him. “You don’t have to be scared to go after what you want anymore. Not when you’re with me.”

His own words took him back to the fateful night at his house. Rumald dreaded to think, what would have happened, if his words had not gotten through to her. Seeing them, together, married. He could not bear to think about it. Life would have carried on, like it always did, but the flickers of love in his heart would have died with her saying, ‘I do’. Which why, Rumald had to relish her and had to come to terms with his demons.

She angled her head to see his face, though her eyes went straight back to the dress, in the store window. “Should I?”

“Treat yourself.” He breathed into her hear.

Glancing back with a smile, Belle took his left hand from her waist and excitedly towed him into the store with her. Rumald grinned at the change in her. Inside the store, she sought out the dress and he obediently followed her into the depths of the store. Navigating through the different displays, Belle found the dress she was after, snatching it down from the rail to look at it, holding it against herself to see it in the mirror.

“Go try it on.” He insisted, as he retrieved his phone. “While you do that, I’m going to call Neal.”

“Okay.” She said excitedly.

Rumald unlocked his phone and called Neal, looking up in time to see Belle disappear into the changing rooms, as he brought his phone up to his ear. Listening to it ring, he promised himself, he would do better. No more doubting. This was it. This was real. Rumald had to believe it. He was not going to wake up and find out it had all been a dream. Belle was here with him. The last few months would not be for nothing. As Belle constantly reminded him, she was not like Milah and Cora, or anyone else, who had abandoned him. He had to push his doubts out of his mind and embrace the truth.

“Hey dad.” Neal answered.

Rumald smiled at hearing his son’s voice. “Hey, Neal. I’ve got a little job for you.”


	46. Chapter 46

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Rumald and Belle attend Jefferson's grand opening party, but so does someone else... leaving Rumald unsettled.

Looking at himself, Rumald turned his head from side to side, inspecting his beard in the mirror. He rubbed his fingers over his left cheek, prickling his fingertips with his beard. Turning his face to the other side, he ran his thumb along the line of his jaw, tired of the face staring back at him. Rumald picked up his razor, positioned it above the start of his beard on his left cheek, and slowly made a stroke into his beard. A small section of his skin, appeared after he removed his razor and swished the head in the hot water. He made another swipe into his beard, partially going over the previous swipe, removing some more of his beard. The more he removed, the more he felt good about it. Shrugging off the mask, he had used, when he had been moping about Belle, and replaced it with his mask of confidence.

Rumald washed his face in fresh hot water, before he looked at his reflection again, seeing his old self in front of him. He felt his left cheek with his fingers, and then turned his face, stroking his thumb along the line of his jaw. It was good to be back in his old mask. Ready to take this serious and do better by Belle, embracing the truth of their love.

Reaching for a towel, he padded his face dry, eyeing his unfamiliar reflection in the mirror, and returned the towel to the rail. Rumald opened his bottle of aftershave, dosed his hand with a couple of shakes, returned the bottle to counter, and then rubbed the fragrance between his hands, to then pad and smear his face in the cool liquid. The sweet sting of the aftershave was easy to bear, while he washed his hands, unable to take his eyes off of himself. He thought it was strange, but without his beard, he could have sworn, he looked a decade or so younger. Drying his hands, Rumald turned his face from side to side, sceptical of what he saw.

He picked his comb out of his toiletry bag, and combed through his hair, noting it was getting longer. Not the longest he’d ever had it. His hair had been down to his shoulders, when he had been married to Milah. Hating the man in the mirror, he had chopped it off one morning, cutting it, as short as he could, with a pair of scissors in his bathroom. Since then, he had kept it short. Combing his damp hair, Rumald neatly parted it, flattening down the unruly tuffs at the back of his head with his hand.

Rumald came out of the ensuite and crossed to the armchair, where he had laid out his clothes earlier. Removing the towel around his waist, he noticed there was music playing in the main room of the suite. He angled himself to see through, but saw nothing, but the furniture of the sitting area. A shrug of his shoulders, Rumald collected his underwear, from the chair, and put them on, before sitting on the edge to put on his socks. As he stood, he twisted his body to pick up his shirt, at the same time, and fed his arm in turn into the arms of the shirt. Buttoning his shirt, his foot bounced to the beat of the music.

Curious, as to what Belle was doing, Rumald picked up his pants and shook them out, and stepped into them as he moved to get a better view into the living area of the suite. She was nowhere to be seen. He fastened his pants, going back to the armchair, to pick up his belt and fed it through the loops of his pants. With his belt secure into place, nice and snug, he grabbed his tie and his suit jacket, from where he had hung it on the back of the door, and went through into the other part of the suite.

Rumald tossed his suit jacket, to the lie over the back of the couch, grinning at Belle, who was sat in an armchair with her legs folded over one another, tapping away at the screen of her phone. Regarding her, he turned up the collar of his shirt and looped his tie around his neck, and tied his tie. It was as he was turning down the collar of his shirt, Belle looked up from her phone and did a double take of him.

“You’ve shaved!” She announced, smiling, and tapped her thumb a few times at her phone, and the music stopped.

“Evidently.” He remained cool, as he picked up his suit jacket and put it on.

Belle pushed herself out of the armchair, and came over to him, asking him, as he tugged at the lapels of his suit jacket and fastened the top button. “How come you shaved it off?”

He pulled at the ends of his shirt sleeves, as he said. “Tired of it.”

“I don’t know, which I prefer, with or without your beard.” She told him, truthfully, touching her hand to his clean shaven cheek.

“Made me look scruffy.” Rumald commented, touching the knot of his tie.

“I wouldn’t say that.” Belle draped her arms around his neck. “Either way, I think you’re handsome.”

Raising an eyebrow at her. “People would argue that you’re biased.”

“My opinion is the only one that matters.” She told him, edging closer to him, pressing herself against him.

“Good thing too.” Rumald agreed with her.

Belle gave him a curious look. “Why’s that?”

“Otherwise, you’d have listened to the rumours about me and we wouldn’t be here.” He said to her, wrapping his arms around her waist.

She bit her bottom lip, grinning at him, and said. “It was the rumours that made me notice you.” Her cheeks blushed pink. “I wanted to meet you so many times, but I had to make do with seeing you from the library.” Belle’s fingers nervously played with his hair at the back of his head, and chuckled at herself, telling him. “I wanted you before I even met you.”

Rumald smirked at her omission. Holding her gaze, he leaned into her, touching their forehead together, and then swept in to capture her lips. He could not refute the truth. Her honesty was obvious, and the truth stoked the fire in the pit of his belly, driving his animalistic hunger for her. His fingers clutched at the back of her dress, tightening the thin fabric around her body, threatening to tear her out of her dress. She went up onto her tiptoes, pressing herself to his body. Teasing her lips with his tongue, Belle let out a delighted hum into Rumald’s mouth, as she granted his wish and opened her mouth to him, and immediately met his tongue with her own.

Letting go of her dress, Rumald stooped to pick her up, grabbing a thigh in either hand, and straddled her hips to his waist, whilst he turned them, to sit her onto the back of the couch. She clung to him, after nearly falling backwards into the couch. There was a thud, but neither were bothered by it. They were too wrapped up in each other, with Rumald snatching his lips away from her, to kiss and nibble at her neck, to notice the odd noise. Belle threw her head back, her eyes closed, enjoying the delightful pain his teeth invoked. Tasting her, he tentatively traced a path up her neck to her jawline, which was when Belle, grabbed the back of his head, and directed him to kiss her again, hungrily devouring the other.

Something let out a ring. Hearing the ring, Belle turned her face away from Rumald, who did not miss a beat, ducking his face into the nape of her neck, returning to assault her neck. She strained to see what was ringing.

“Rumald.” Belle called his name, trying to get his attention, but her call sounded more like a moan of pleasure.

Leaning away from Rumald, taking her neck out of his reach, Belle tried again to see what was ringing, while Rumald kissed her chest, through her dress. Inwardly, he moaned about the high neck line, as he shifted his hold around her, so he could free his left hand to cup her breast through her dress. She grabbed at his hair, taking in a sharp breath, when Rumald nipped at her breast, guessing where her nipple was underneath.

She repeatedly tapped his shoulder. “Rumald, there’s a phone ringing!”

“Let it ring.” He mumbled to the mound of her breast.

“Rumald!” Belle pushed at his shoulders. “Stop, someone is calling!”

“God sakes…” Rumald muttered under his breath, stepping back, bringing Belle with him.

Clumsily, she dropped off the back of the couch, falling unsteadily into Rumald. He supported her, while twisting to see where the ringing was coming from, and pinpointed it to the hotel phone, in the foyer behind him. Rumald made sure, Belle had her balance, and took a step away from her, and became very aware of the constrictiveness of his pants. As he went into the foyer, he grumbled to himself, adjusting himself through his pants, and yanked the phone out of its cradle, when he was close enough.

“Gold!” He barked.

“Err…” Came a very small voice on the other side of the line. “Mr Gold, I’m calling to let you know, your limo is waiting for you.”

“Right.” He said sternly, his tone softening. “Thank you.”

Rumald held the phone away from his ear, and glared at the defenceless piece of plastic, before returning it to its cradle. Shaking his head, he lifted his gaze to Belle, resting back against the couch, she had moments ago been sat on, smirking at him. He straightened his back, whilst he pulled at his underwear through his pants, feeling uncomfortable.

“The limo’s waiting downstairs.” He told her, walking back into the suite.

Belle bit her lip at him. “We could always stay here?”

“I’d love to, but I promised Jefferson, I’d be there.” Rumald bent over, noticing Belle’s phone on the floor, and stood, handing it over to her.

“I’ll get my coat.” She said, as she took her offered phone and swept passed him, brushing herself against him.

He groaned at the physical contact. A short distance away, Belle let out a small giggle, whilst she collected their coats from the other couch, on the other side of the room. She came back to him, laying his overcoat on the couch in front of him, and grinned at him, when he turned his head to look at her. ‘ _Evil minx.’_ , Rumald thought, as she put on her coat and flicked her hair free of the collar. Belle left him, to dump her phone into her handbag, sat on the floor by the foot of the armchair, she had been sat in earlier. As she strolled back to him, fastening her coat, giving him a sultry look, Rumald collected his overcoat and laid it over his arm.

“Come on.” He ushered her into the foyer, sweeping her up into his arm, his hand lightly on her back. “We’ll continue this later.”

Peering at him, over her shoulder, Belle smiled at him. Rumald returned her smile with a sly smile of his own, and reached for the door handle, opening the door for her, watching her closely as she exited the suite.

The limousine pulled to a stop at the kerb in front of Jefferson’s new shop. Wrapping the flaps of his overcoat closed, Rumald pulled the latch to release the door, and stepped out. Immediately, he missed his beard, touching his face, feeling the evening chill nip at his freshly shaven face. He sidestepped, out of the way of the door, and offered his hand in time, to help Belle out of the car. Holding his hand, Belle huddled closer to him, edging from the limousine to the sidewalk.

There was a swarm of people, lingering outside of Jefferson’s shop, the music from inside could be heard outside, over the din of the people chatting and smoking. The shop was brightly lit, and there was a large Christmas tree, beautiful decorated, on display on the left of the store. They must have put up decorations after he left, as he noted there were large red bows, dotted around inside, tinsel strung up and lashed anywhere they could get it, and lots of Christmas lights decorating the windows and hanging from the ceiling. For Rumald, it was a very over done, but a glance at Belle’s face, told him she loved it. He rolled his eyes, as they squeezed through the crowd and grabbed the door handle, pulling the door open for her, gently pushing her through the open doorway.

Inside, there was quite a turnout, with lots of women gathered in small groups, chatting and looking at the dresses on display. Persuading Belle to move aside, Rumald claimed her hand as he walked by her, bringing her with him, and headed through mingling crowd to find Jefferson and Grace. He lifted his chin, spying above the heads of the women. On his left, as they excused themselves through, a woman whispered to her friend, ‘ _Isn’t that Rumald Gold?’_. The deeper they got, the more he heard his name being mentioned. Hearing, ‘ _I swear that’s Rumald Gold. You know, the one who danced with Cora Mills.’,_ made him turn his head, to look at the blonde, who was having a hushed conversation with the woman beside her. He was used to people talking about him. However, normally his name was said with dread, not with the glee many of the women had in their voices. Rumald surmised, they must have been dancers, and pulled Belle closer, feeling uncomfortable with so many faces, looking at him with awe, instead of fear.

“Rumald!” His ears pricked to a familiar voice calling him, and looked to see Regina, waving for them to come over.

Pulling Belle through to walk in front of him, he lightly held his hand to her back, walking with her, to where Regina and Mal were stood. Belle’s pace quickened, when she recognised the friendly faces, they were approaching. Casually, Rumald maintain his pace, watchful as Belle got a few steps ahead of him, leaving him behind. Again, he heard his name being said, and glimpsed back, seeing several prying eyes on him.

“I didn’t realise you two were going to be here.” Belle proclaimed to them.

Regina smiled. “I never pass up free champagne and a chance to peruse Jefferson’s dresses.”

“She dragged me here.” Mal was blunt.

“How did I drag you?” Regina asked, then turned her head to look at Mal. “As soon as I mentioned Jefferson, you leapt at the chance to come along. Actually,” She pointed her finger at Mal. “You insisted, that you wanted to come with me.”

“Points of view.” Mal said as her defence.

Rumald came to a stop beside Belle, saying. “Always depends on someone’s point of view.”

“I thought you were going to call me.” Regina threw at him, shifting her weight on her hips.

“I was.” Rumald agreed with her, showing her a brief smile. “I’m waiting to hear back from Dove on a couple of things.”

Regina rolled her eyes at him. “If I couldn’t find anywhere, I doubt Dove will.”

He motioned with hand to her. “Have I ever let you down?”

“No.” She said, eyeing him with a hint of suspicion.

Rumald placed his hand on his chest, as he said. “Then have some faith in me.”

“I do!” Regina insisted. “It’s just…” She let out a long breath. “I’m a little stressed.”

Belle reached out to Regina, and touched her hand, holding a nearly empty glass of champagne. “Rumald’s been working on it all day.” Rumald swiftly turned his head to look at Belle, as she said. “He’ll sort it for you. I know he will.” She smiled. “Try not to worry.”

His eyebrows twitched at Belle. Apart from his aunts, no one had ever had faith in him. Milah had never believed, he would accomplish a lot of the things, he had set out to do. Though, she had been happy to reap the rewards of these deeds, spending money, like it was going out of fashion. With Cora, she had taken everything he had done for granted, using him to showboat, progressing her dancing and propelling herself further up the social circles. Cora had not cared, what he had done, or whether he could do it, she had demanded and had expected it to be done. And here was Belle, believing he would help Regina, and save the exhibition from being cancelled. Her belief in him, made him feel stronger, invincible, and he liked it.

“You need another drink.” Mal stated, shaking her empty glass in the air, gazing by them for a server.

“Drink sounds good.” Belle beamed, joining Mal in searching for a server.

His phone buzzed against his chest, attracting his attention, and everyone else, to look at his chest. Holding open his overcoat, Rumald slid his hand into his suit jacket, drawing out his phone, from the inside pocket. He read the screen, seeing it was Dove calling him. Flashing the phone, for Regina to see the caller ID, Rumald swiped his finger across the screen, and wandered a small distance away from them.

“Dove.” He greeted.

There was a short huff of breath, before Dove said. “Evening, sir.”

“What did you find out?” Rumald inquired, glancing back to where the ladies were.

“A lot of the things, I can acquire by Thursday.” Dove informed him. “For the sound system, they would need to see the building, to give an estimate and an ETA.”

Rumald touched his chin, seeking to play with his beard, and then gave his hand a questioning look, as he said. “Arrange for them to come in on Monday.”

“The licenses may take a little work, to get them in time.” Dove told him, and added. “We probably want to have a chat with our very helpful Mayor.”

The left side of his lips pulled back into half a smile. “I’ll take care of him.”

“There is another matter, we need to discuss.” Dove apprised.

“Matter?” Rumald asked, whilst at the same time, he felt someone touch his shoulder.

Twisting to look behind him, he found Belle, missing her coat, holding a glass of champagne towards him. Rumald took the glass from her, and leant into her, placing a quick kiss on her cheek. Her hand had touched his face, as he had kissed her, and she was smiling at him, when he pulled back from her. Sipping the cold champagne, Rumald observed her, as she strolled back to Regina and Mal.

Dove breathed heavily before he began. “Mr French.”

“What about him?” Rumald’s voice became darker.

“Wouldn’t pay his rent.” Dove told him flatly.

Touching his left hand to his forehead, Rumald let out a small groan of annoyance, and said. “His reason?”

“Said, as you have taken his daughter, you owe him.” Dove said, as quick as he could, not wanting to the messenger.

“Did he now?” Rumald dropped his hand down from his forehead. “Well… I guess, we’ll be having a word with him on Monday.”

“Yes, sir.” Dove’s reply was short.

Ending the call, Rumald returned his phone, to the inside pocket of his suit jacket, shaking his head in disbelief. He owed Belle’s father? The man was delusional! He scratched at the crown of his head, his eyes wide, unable to comprehend the madness of her father, or the death wish he had. Snatching at the lapels of his overcoat, Rumald refused to be tempted to fly back that instance, burst into the flower shop, and beat the living daylights out of the man. Though… He wore a smirk, relishing the memory of his hands, being clamped around the man’s throat. His only saving grace, had been Belle there, to save Maurice from Rumald. Next time, they meet, Rumald thought as he turned back to where the ladies stood, he would make sure Belle was nowhere nearby.

Pasting a pleasant smile on his face, he moseyed back to where they were stood, sipping from his champagne, and got there as Regina said. “I can’t believe they’re here.”

“Who?” Rumald inquired, peering round the crowded store.

“Cora and Zelena.” Mal answered, pulling a face of disgust before she drank from her glass, finishing the contents.

Belle pulled a wry smile at them. “Zelena’s alright.”

“As long as you don’t cross her.” Regina commented, and then looked at Rumald. “Or turn her down.”

“Turn her down?” Belle followed Regina’s gaze to Rumald.

Rumald tipped back the rest of his glass. “Why don’t we just forget about them, and enjoy our evening?” Levelling a pointed look at Regina. “Some things are better off being forgotten.”

“More importantly, I think we need another round of drinks.” Mal proclaimed, offering her empty glass to Rumald.

He took her empty glass, his gaze never wavered from Regina, who held up an apologetic hand to him. Excusing himself, Rumald shook his head, and headed further into the shop, finding the makeshift bar near the door to the stairwell. He placed the empty glasses on the table, and signalled he wanted four more, as the door to the stairwell opened. He had half expected to be confronted by Cora or Zelena, but thankfully, it was Grace, who came out of the door, breaking out into smile when she saw him.

“Rumald.” She hurried round the makeshift bar, and tiptoed up to kiss his cheek. “I was wondering, if you were here. Did she come?”

Rumald smiled warmly. “Yes, she’s over with Regina and Mal.” Hooking his thumb back in the direction, he had come from. “Where’s your father?”

“He’s upstairs, doing his thing.” Grace gestured above them, rolling her eyes.

“I’ll pop up and see him a bit.” Rumald told her, as the bartender put the four glasses of champagne down, removing the two empty glasses.

“Hey, let me take your coat and I’ll put it in dad’s office with the others.” Grace said to him.

Rumald’s eyebrows bounced up his forehead for a second, before he checked his pockets, removed his room key and a set of keys, pocketing them into his pants, and shrugged off his coat to give to her. She took it by the collar and laid it over her arm. Smoothing his hands down his suit jacket, he then repositioned his tie, checking over his appearance.

“I’ll pin your name to it, so when you leave, just ask a server for your coat.” Grace informed him, and then said. “I’ll come find you in a minute. I’m curious to meet your Belle.”

He half smiled at her. She backed up from him, smiling, and then whipped away from him, a skip in her step as she headed through the door into the stairwell. It never got easier to reminded how old he was. Rumald could remember visiting Jefferson, aware of Grace, playing with dolls, dressing them in crudely made outfits, while he had been there shopping for himself or with Cora. The last time he had seen her, Grace must have been about nine years’ old, a shy little thing, clinging to the back of mother’s legs. Now, as he looked at her, Rumald was reminded of how much time he had lost with Neal.

Swallowing down the hard lump in the back of his throat, Rumald collected the glasses up, carrying two in either hand, and went back to join the others. The ladies were laughing at something as he approached. He held his right hand out to Mal, letting her take a glass, and then offered the other to Regina, once Mal had taken hers. They thanked him in turn, while he offered a glass to Belle.

“Thank you.” She said sweetly to him.

Her fingers lightly traced heated paths over the back of his hand. Rumald looked down at his left hand, enjoying the familiar tingle of her touch. Flicking his eyes up to meet hers, he could see the want they stirred up, before leaving the suite, in Belle’s eyes, darkening her blue eyes. He moved closer to her, putting his hand on her lower back, and, ever so slowly, slid his hand down to sit on the curve of her backside. Gradually, Belle turned her head to look at him, a knowing glint in her eye. He grinned at her.

“You know,” Rumald extended his forefinger, clasping his glass in other fingers, and stroked the fingernail down the soft skin of her upper arm. “I don’t believe, that I’ve told you, how beautiful you look tonight.”

“No, I don’t think you have.” She agreed with him, giving him a sultry look.

He leaned into her, whispering into her ear. “You look absolutely ravishing.”

“Hopefully, you’ll be ravishing me later.” Belle flashed her eyes at him, as she said it.

“I don’t know about the later part, but most definitely.” Rumald told her, flexing his fingers, digging his fingertips sharply into her ass.

She bit her lower lip at him. “I look forward to it.”

Touching his forehead to her head, he was half tempted to drag her upstairs, throw her in a changing room, lock the door behind them, and take her there and then. The man, he used to be, would have done it. Though, the old version of him, would not have been so honourable with her. Rumald would not have danced around with her so much, before making his intent known. And he would not have shared a room with her, without taking what he wanted, and let her so easily out of his grasp afterwards. He would have made his move, long before, uncaring whether she would hate him or not. With the way, he could toy with words, Belle would have been eating out of his hands, begging him to take her, after telling her of Gaston’s extra activities.

But… A woman like Belle... Ought to be with a gentleman. Not a beast.

“So, Rumald, what did Dove have to say?” Regina asked him.

Deeply breathing in the smell of Belle, Rumald pulled himself away from her, turning his gaze to Regina, as he said. “All become clear, dearie, when you meet me Monday morning.”

“Monday morning? Where?” She inquired with a quizzical frown.

“The old picture house.” He supplied and sipped his champagne.

Regina scrunched her brow in thought. “I’ve got to drop Henry off at school, but I can meet you there about nine o’clock?”

“That’s fine, dearie.” Rumald wafted the glass of champagne through the air, as he spoke, sloshing the cool liquid up the sides of the glass. “I’ll be there from seven.”

“Rumald.” Said a voice, as someone’s hand touched his right upper arm. “Regina, Mal.”

Turning his head, Rumald smiled seeing Grace stood beside him. “Grace.” He backed up a step, bringing Belle into Grace’s view. “Belle, this is Jefferson’s daughter, Grace.”

“Oh!” Belle offered her hand to Grace, her arm brushing up Rumald’s front. “Your dresses are amazing!”

“Thank you.” Grace smiled, shaking Belle’s hand.

“I wore a dress of yours, when we competed at Boston.” Belle informed Grace.

Grace’s smile widened, her eyes sparkling. “I saw in the Ballroom Monthly.” She reached across to touch Belle’s forearm. “It really suited you, like you were a fairy-tale princess. Just so beautiful.”

The blush rushed up Belle’s neck to her cheeks. “Thank you.”

“Breath-taking.” Rumald murmured under his breath.

The flick of her eyes to him, told Rumald, Belle had heard him. Smug with himself, he persuaded her to come closer to him, using his hand on her backside, as he leant into her, and kissed the side of her head. Her arm slipped around him, and under the back of his suit jacket, for her thumb to hook into the waist of his pants. Leaning back, Rumald smiled at her.

“So, who’s going to be here? Your father or you, Grace?” Mal inquired.

“Dad’ll be moving here.” Grace explained, motioning to the store. “This’ll be our flagship store now. And I’ll keep the one in Portland.”

Mal grinned. “Oh, good.” She raised her glass to her lips. “I couldn’t bear having to travel all this way, when you’re right on my doorstep in Portland.”

“But the chance for free drinks and a night away from Storybrooke, isn’t too much to bear?” Regina questioned, raising an eyebrow.

Mal smiled wickedly at Regina, whilst she sipped her champagne. Rumald’s eyes glistened with his amusement. The two of them have always been the same. Rumald had never taught Mal. She had made her debut at a teen novice competition, giving Regina and Zelena, some fierce competition. The three developed a rivalry, that grew at each encounter, fuelled by one of them besting the others. Especially, between Regina and Zelena, fighting for their mother’s praise.

It had been a fateful moment, which had ended the feud between Regina and Mal, bringing them together. They had both been doing really well, and had danced their way into the top five. A misstep, a misjudgement, and not being aware of their space – the two couples had bashed into one another, sending both parties down to the floor. There had been a huge gasp. Rumald could still remember, the feel of electricity in the air, as the crowd had held their breath, waiting for the explosion. At his side, Cora had silently goaded her daughter to destroy Mal, rip her heart out, and other whispered obscenities. To everyone’s surprise, and the outrage of Cora, the two had looked at one another and had burst out laughing. Since that moment, they had been inseparable, much to Cora’s dismay.

‘ _Somethings never change.’_ , he thought to himself, drinking his champagne. Lowering his glass from his lips, Rumald narrowed his eyes, with thoughts of Cora haunting him. If he had accompanied her, to this sort of party, Cora would have been flouncing herself about the room, drawing the eye of everyone. She would have stolen the limelight, and, sadly, he would have loved it. No one would have interfered with her, scared of what he would have said or done to them. The thought of it, made his gut twist in disgust, hating that version of himself. Rumald slowly closed his eyes at the memories, wiser now, to the fact she had only wanted him for his wealth and power.

Startled by the buzz close to his chest, and the sudden ringing of his phone, Rumald’s eyes opened in a flash. He looked down to his breast pocket, knowing it was his phone. He exchanged his glass between his hands, as he stepped back from Belle, and slipped his hand into the inside pocket of his jacket to his phone. His brow pushed up his forehead in surprised.

He slid his thumb over the screen and held the phone to his ear. “Hey, Neal.”

“Did you know?” Neal demanded.

His eyebrows narrowed together, as he asked. “Knew what, son?”

“Did you know about Henry?” Snapped Neal, loud enough, that Belle looked at Rumald.

“Hold on, let me go somewhere quieter.” Rumald muted himself. “I’ll be back shortly.”

“Okay.” Belle said to him.

Walking away from the group, Rumald tipped back the rest of his drink, and left his empty glass at the makeshift bay, before entering the stairwell. He spied up through the banister, to the landing above, making sure it was clear. Leaning against the wall, by the fire exit, Rumald was not sure how to handle the situation. Habit said to lie. Twist the truth, save himself from his son’s hatred. He shook his head at the thought, knowing it would not. It would only buy him a sweet moment, before his son learnt the truth.

“I had a suspicion and confronted Emma about it.” Rumald decided to be honest.

There was a frustrated growl and then Neal insisted. “Why didn’t you tell me?!”

Rumald touched his forehead. “Because I thought it best, if Emma told you. It was her secret, not mine to tell. Plus, why would you believe me?”

“You’re my dad. Course I would believe you.” Neal went quiet for a few seconds, and then said. “You’re right though. It was best it came from Emma. She should’ve told me a long time ago.”

Waiting, listening to his son, Rumald was not sure how best to precede with the conversation. The father in him, wanted to be back in Storybrooke, offering his son comfort or – probably what Neal was going to be doing – a stiff drink from his vast selection of alcohol.

Softly, Rumald asked. “You okay, son?”

“I don’t know.” Neal confessed and let out a long sigh. “I’m totally mind fucked.”

“That’s understandable.” Rumald imagined his son, sat on the end of his bed at the house, bent over, elbow propped on his knee, cradling his forehead in his hand.

“Is it?” Neal asked, unsurely.

Rumald quietly scoffed and then smirked. “Seeing, as when you mother told me, she was pregnant with you, I had to go and down a whole bottle of whiskey. Not knowing what I was going to do. I could imagine, finding out, you’ve got a grown son, would definitely knock you for six.”

“I don’t think one bottle will cover it, dad.” Neal told him, a sadness to his tone.

“How did you leave things with Emma?” Rumald asked, his curiosity getting the better of him.

“I… I…” There was silence before Neal said. “I really want to fucking hate her. She kept this from me. Lied to me. Kept my son from me. I should hate her. But…” He went quiet.

“That’s only natural. And I don’t think, she would blame you, if you did.” Rumald said, bowing his head forward, looking at the toes of his shoes.

For a long time, it was quiet on the other end of the phone, making Rumald think his son had hung up or had put the phone down. Taking the phone away from his ear, he saw the call timer was still counting and put the phone back to his ear. His heart clenched painfully, wanting to be there for his son. He wanted to pull him into an embrace, cradle his head to his shoulder, shushing his son’s troubles away, with the quiet promise to make it alright. The silence was torturous.

Relief washed through him, when he heard Neal sniffle before he said. “I’m more angry at myself.”

“Why?” Rumald frowned.

“Cause I wasn’t there.” Neal confided, letting out an enormous breath. “I should’ve been there for her, dad. I should’ve known something wasn’t right, when she stopped answering my calls and messages. I wish I hadn’t had my head up my ass, thinking she was like you and had abandoned me.”

Tightly pressing his phone to his ear, Rumald squeezed his eyes shut, while reaching up to pinch the bridge of his nose. All he wanted, was to do right by Neal. Instead of bringing some joy into his son’s life, Rumald had unknowingly ripped open an old wound. The hurt and hatred, he heard in his son’s voice, plunged the words bluntly into Rumald’s heart.

“I missed out on so much, dad.” Neal told him.

Feeling the threat of tears, Rumald opened his eyes wide and blinked away the unshed tears, as he pivoted round to face the wall, hiding himself away from view. He braced his forearm against the wall, and rested his forehead to the rough surface of the wall, staring at the dark grey paint on the bricked wall. He yearned to turn back the hands of time for his son. Take them back and make everything right. Even if it meant, he would have to give up everything, including the chance of meeting Belle - Rumald would do it in a heartbeat. Anything, if it meant, Neal would be saved from all the hurt, Rumald had caused him. He would give up everything for him.

“I know, son.” Rumald whispered. “I know.”

Neal sniffled. “I’m sorry, I’m interrupting your evening.”

“No, no. You’re not.” Rumald urgently told him, not wanting his son to go.

“Dad, I… I really… I need to think.” His son said with another sniffle.

“Okay, but I’ll…” He tried to tell Neal, he would call him later, but he heard the line go dead and looked at his phone to confirm it.

Rumald took in weary breath, gazing down at his phone in his hands. Though, he knew it was for the best, that Neal knew about Henry, a part of Rumald wished he had not said anything to Emma. The promise to never hurt his son again, once again, had been broken. His fingers tightened around his phone, envisioning it was his own heart, so he could crush the life out of it.

The door to the stairs opened behind him. His back snapped straight, while his mask slipped down easily, disguising the inner turmoil he was going through. Rumald’s ear pricked up to the sound of heels coming nearer, clicking on the polished floor. Swivelling round, slipping his phone back into suit jacket pocket, Rumald turned to confront whoever it was.

“Cora.” He parted his feet, taking a stance, and clasped his hands in front of himself. “And there was me hoping, our paths wouldn’t cross tonight.”

Cora smirked at him. “Oh, come now. I know you’re always happy to see me.”

“I wouldn’t be so sure about that, dearie.” Rumald told her.

“I’m surprised to see you here with her, though.” Cora said to him, touching a finger to the end of the banister. “Bit young for you, isn’t she?”

He could not help himself, watching her finger trace the curve in the end of the banister. “Age is just a number, they say.”

“Experience can’t be taught though, my dear.” She said, snatching her hand back from the banister.

“No, but it’ll come with time and from making mistakes.” Rumald sniped at her.

“Well…” She chuckled at him, a knowing glint in her eye. “The irony.”

His lips pressed into a thin line, while he looked away from her, staring off into the shadows under the stairs. The few steps she took, closing the space between them, made Rumald bring his gaze back to Cora. She met his gaze, grinning at him, pleased with herself, that she had got to him first. Lifting his chin in defiance, he spied down his nose at her, watching as she reached towards him, pressing her finger into his tie, pushing it into his sternum.

“It doesn’t have to be like this, Rumald.” She told him, her gaze focus on her finger, travelling down the length of his tie.

Rumald crooked an eyebrow at her, refusing to look at her finger. “You assume, that I want it another way.”

Her gaze flicked up to meet his. “You used to want it a lot of ways.”

“I still do,” He leaned forward, stooping in height to bring his face closer to hers, telling her in a whisper. “Just not with you.”

Her fingers unbuttoned the single button of his suit jacket. “Oh, I’m sure, with a little bit of persuasion,” Cora lowered her eyes to his chest, as her hands splayed on his stomach, causing the muscles of his stomach to contract. “You’d change your mind.”

“I doubt it.” Rumald told her, defiantly. 

Cora’s hands travelled up his stomach to his chest. “I have to admit, Rumald, the whole ‘playing hard to get’ is a real turn on. Along with our usual banter.”

“What do you want?” He inquired, taking a step back, revolted by her touch.

“I’ve been doing a lot of thinking lately.” She began to explain. “And… I think it’s time, we should get back together.”

Rumald’s eyes were bulging out of his head. “Excuse me?”

“We could have it all again, Rumald. We could be number one again.” Cora countered his early step, returning her hands to his chest.

“Number one?” His forehead scrunched into deep lines, darkening his eyes. “What are you talking about?”

Her hands glided from his chest to his sides, a short step forward, and Cora was pressing herself against his body. “Us.” She grinned at him. “Together, we could dominate the competition again.” Her hands pressed him closer to Cora. “Think about it, Rumald. Remember, how good it used to feel…”

Titling his face away from her, Rumald was repulsed by her words, by her physical touch. Out of the corner of his eye, he focused his gaze on the door, wanting to escape. However, a part of him… Was entranced by what she was telling him. He really did not want to listen to her, but… It did used to feel good. The thrill of squashing the hopes and dreams of so many dancers, who believed it was their year to win. Slapping the smugness off so many faces, who thought they were the best. Nobody had been able to beat them, danced as well as they did together, or worked as hard as they had. They were the best, the couple to beat, and the envy of everyone else.

“Us, together, winning.” Cora whispered, her breath tickling his ear.

Slowly, Rumald turned his head to face Cora. Her wicked grin spread wider, deepening the shallow lines by the corners of her eyes. A hand came up to touch his face. Startled by her touch, he grabbed her by her upper arms and spun them round, and pressed her into the wall.

“The only us, I’m interested in, is me and Belle.” He informed her. “Never, will I ever, want to get back with you.”

Cora narrowed her eyes at him. “Never say never, dear.”

Rumald let go of her, stepping back as he did, and redid the button of his suit jacket, saying. “Never, dearie.”

“I’m telling you, Rumald, you’ll regret your decision.” She warned.

“You’re the only thing, I’ve ever regretted and I won’t make the same mistake.” He turned away from her and left her there, smoothing a hand down the front of himself, as he walked purposefully out of the stairwell.

Shaking his head, Rumald could not believe what had just happened, and actually pinched himself to make sure he was not dreaming. Why? Why after all this time, would Cora come to him, wanting him back? Bewildered, he navigated his way back through the crowd, wanting to get back to Belle and far away from Cora. He did not know why she would do this now, and he did not want to know, but… There was one thing, he was sure about – Cora did not stop, until she got what she wanted. 


	47. Chapter 47

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Rumald tells Regina of his plans for the old picture house and pays a tenant a visit.

The key slipped easily into the lock and receded back with a satisfying click, before Rumald yanked open the door, pouring bright light into the foyer of the old picture house. There were cobwebs streamed across the entrance, which Rumald easily brushed out of his path, as he entered the building. Marco followed him through the door, his eyes narrow, sweeping a keen eye over the interior of the foyer. It was like stepping back in time, to the late nineties. Rumald pocketed his bundle of keys, into his overcoat pocket, whilst he removed his sunglasses to tuck into the inside pocket of his overcoat. He turned, his gaze raised to stained glass windows.

“Wow.” Marco set his large toolbox down on the entrance mat, his eyes wide with wonder. “Apart from the cobwebs. You could open up for lunchtime matinee.”

“A testament to being well built.” Rumald commented.

Marco walked over to the confectionery counter and leant over it, placing his hand on top of the glass counter, as he said. “It’s just how I remember it.”

“Hopefully, we can keep some of the original features.” Rumald waved the blueprints Neal had drawn up and left on the desk in his study. “We’ll keep the counter, but I want to open out the space behind there.” He waved to the wall behind the counter and the doors either side of counter, leading to the smaller screen rooms.

“Looks as though, we don’t have to reinforce it. There’s a support beam across the top there.” Marco pointed to wall in question.

Rumald nodded his head, agreeing. “They must have reinforced it, when they converted it from a theatre into a picture house.”

“Let’s have a look at these plans.” Marco said, walking over to Rumald.

“Probably best, if we go up into the main screen room, then you’ll get a better idea of what I have in mind.” Rumald gestured to the stairs on his left, using the roll of paper.

“Sounds good. Lead the way.” Marco swept his arm to the stairs, as he spoke.

Together, with Rumald partially in front, they climbed one of the set of stairs, leading to the upstairs landing. On the changeover, to the next set of short steps, Rumald glanced to one of the larger stain glass windows, illuminating the stairs with brightly coloured light. At the top of the stairs, they crossed the very large landing, to one set of the double doors leading into the large screen room. The door creaked as they opened it. Rumald wrinkled his nose at the musty smell, invading his nose, but pushed on, ignoring the smell.

“This is amazing.” Marco stated, as he descended some of the stairs, his fingers gliding across the back of the chairs.

Rumald remained near the doors, needing the light, and rolled out the plans. “It was a shame, I had to close it.”

Marco pointed to a random seat, a couple of rows down from where he stood, near to the middle of large seating area. “That’s where I shared my first kiss with Peggy Napster.”

“Delightful.” Rumald scrunched his brow at Marco’s omission.

“So many memories.” Marco climbed back up the steps to where Rumald stood.

Rumald braced a small smile. “Hopefully, we can make some new ones.” He offered one side of the plans to Marko, freeing his hand to point. “What’s I’m proposing, is we knock through down there,” He pointed to the walls, leading to the smaller screens. “Take out all this seating area, up to the projection booth, which we’ll covert into an office space. This whole area up here, will be converted to a balcony area, where we’ll have tables and such, for the VIP area of the club.”

“Constructing the balcony is going to take the time.” Marco shuffled closer, brushing his shoulder with Rumald, and pointed to a point on the plans. “But it looks as though, if your original plans are correct, there’s already a lot of support beams in place. We’ll just add a few more and maybe replace some of the older ones.”

“I leave that in your capable hands, Marco.” Rumald said, looking from the plans to Marco’s face.

Marco’s eyes widened, as he scrutinised the plans. “The timescale is going to be the problem. Three weeks?”

“I have every faith.” Rumald patted Marco’s shoulder.

Marco scoffed. “Going to take a miracle, not faith.” He shrugged a shoulder. “But, we’ll give it ago.”

“Any problems, just let me or Dove know, and we’ll sort it. You concentrate on managing it all and we’ll deal with everything else.” Rumald told him, giving Marco’s shoulder a slight squeeze of reassurance.

“I better call the boys then.” Marco let go of the plans, to get his phone out of jeans and began calling his men.

Rolling the plans back into a tight roll, Rumald grinned at the prospect of restoring the old picture house, back to some of its former glory. Giving things a new lease of life, always thrilled him. Whether it was a pocket watch, a painting or a building. Everyone deserved a second chance at life – living or inanimate. His smile partly wavered, as he swivelled on the balls of his feet to leave the room. ‘ _Maybe, third time, will be the charm’_ , he thought to himself, with his thoughts going to the weekend.

Apart from his run in Cora, and Neal’s shock at Emma’s secret, Rumald had fully enjoyed his weekend away with Belle. Granted, she had driven him mad, with her nose buried in her tourist book, while dragging him from monument to monument, recommend visiting spots and anywhere else, her book had recommended. Her thrill, when she realised they were somewhere, that had been featured in a film or a TV show, she had seen, had annoyed him after the fourth time. The loud gasps had made him start more than once. Her glee had oozed from her, while they had sat waiting at the airport, waiting to board their plane back to Portland. It was not until after the plane had taken off, Belle’s excitement had drained her energy and she had slumped against his shoulder, clutching at the crook of his arm, that Rumald had gotten some peace.

Descending the stairs, back to the old picture house foyer, Rumald smiled broadly at the memories. Being with her, being near her, or just knowing he was hers, put a spring in Rumald’s step. He could not deny it. If only, he could take himself back, back to the twenty-year-old, he had been when he had met Milah, before he had tainted himself with too darkness. That was who he wanted to be for her. And there he was, already keeping secrets from her. His face took on a sombre look, as he deposited the plans to the confectionery counter.

Rumald shoved open the door to the old picture house, strolling out onto the sidewalk, crossing it to his Cadillac, parked at the kerb, and turned round to lean against the passenger wing of the car. The winter chill nipped painfully at his cheeks and where his neck was exposed. To ward off the cold, Rumald turned up the collar of his overcoat. He peeled back his left sleeve, checking the time, Regina was not due for a while. With a leather clad hand, he slipped his hand into the inside pocket of his suit jacket, pulled out his phone, and began the mundane task of checking the morning emails. Really, he wanted to check to see, if Neal had messaged him, or if he had any missed calls from his son. Rumald had been hoping to see him, on his return from New York, but had come home to empty house.

There were shallow lines drawn across his brow, unknowingly wearing his worry. They had been there since his encounter with Cora. He had tried to mask them, but Belle had seen them. Pointing them out to him, after they had left the party and had gotten into limousine. A gentle hand had rested on his thigh, giving him a look, which he rarely received off anyone. To explain the lines of worry, Rumald had told her about Neal being Henry’s father, but had refrained from telling her about Cora. He should have. He wanted to be honest with her. But he had his reasons. One: He wanted to know, what Cora was up to, before he told her. Two: He did not want to explain, why Cora’s hands had been all over him. Three: (and his main reason) He really did not want to talk about it. The whole confrontation had left him with a bad taste in his mouth, and had unsettled him for the rest of their evening. Thankfully, Belle’s excitement for sightseeing, had distracted her, from seeing any traces of the lines, behind his mask.

And that was the other reason, for the lines of worry on Rumald’s forehead: Lying.

Rumald folded his arms across his chest, hating how his old habits were slowly resurfacing. He wanted to be honest with her. He wanted to be an open book to her, but he also wished to protect her. The mantra, ‘ _She deserved better’_ , kept going round and round in his head. He had known that since the day he met her. It was just so hard, to shake off the man, he had become and be… Him. Be that innocent twenty-year-old for her.

Shaking his head to dislodge his thoughts, Rumald unfolded his arms and unlocked his phone again, deciding to send his son a message. This would be his first step. Normally, Rumald would have waited until Neal had called, too afraid to push the boundaries, in case he was rejected again. Using both his thumbs, he typed out his message to Neal. It was short and to the point, ‘ _I love you and I’m here, if you want to talk’._ He tapped to send it, and then stood staring at his phone, with an uneasiness, clawing its way up his spine. The worried lines on his forehead deepened slightly, whilst he held his phone in his hands. He questioned his decision, fretting he had done the wrong thing.

“Well…” Said a breathless voice. “Aren’t you a sight for sore eyes?”

Curious, he flicked his gaze to where he had heard the voice, and did a double take of Belle, who was slowing her stride to stop in front him, breathless, flushed and looking absolutely beautiful. “Hello, sweetheart.” Rumald grinned, pushed himself away from the car and greeted her, kissing her clammy cheek. “I wasn’t expecting to see you this morning.”

Belle grabbed the sleeves of his overcoat, bracing herself, as she panted for breath. “I was running…” She twisted to wave back towards the docks. “And saw the car.” And gestured to the car.

“Tis rather noticeable.” Rumald eyed the dark purple woolly hat, she was wearing, as he pocketed his phone.

Her chest heaved with the big breath she took. “I haven’t got long, but I couldn’t help myself, when I saw your car.”

“How long have you got?” He asked, reaching a hand up to touch her hat with his finger, gently probing the knitted item.

“Like I said, not long. I need to get back, get showered, get dressed and have breakfast before half eight.” She blew out a breath, straightening her back. “Why?”

“Because I’m suddenly developing a fetish for purple woolly hats.” Rumald grinned at her, lowering his hand to touch the back of his fingers to her cheek.

“Oh, stop it!” Belle swatted his hand away. “It’s the first one I grabbed and it’s warm.”

Rumald captured her in his arms, and turned her, so her back was to the car, and walked her backwards, pinning her between himself and the car. “Oh, no, dearie. I’m serious.” He reached up to her face, slipped his fingers into her hair, stroking his thumbs over her cheeks, telling her before he kissed her. “Such a turn on.”

Her hands grasped at his back, a light encouragement, for him to further lean into her, opening her mouth to him. Their tongues tentatively touched, as Rumald titled his head to the side, wanting to delve deeper into her mouth. Belle moaned, pressing herself against him. Stroking his thumbs over her cheeks, Rumald pulled back from their kiss, a mischievous glint in his eye as his gaze flicked from Belle’s to her purple hat.

She shook her head at him, an amused smile on her face. “Have you heard from Neal?”

“No, not yet.” He informed her, his lips forming a weary smile, as he untangled his fingers from her hair and moved his hands to rest on the roof of the car. “I just sent him message, actually. Maybe I’ll hear something later.”

Belle nodded her head in acknowledgement. “After you drop me off last night, Emma was in Grannies, drowning her sorrows in a cup of cocoa.”

“Not my prefer choice, for drowning one’s sorrows.” He commented dryly.

“She looked miserable.” Belle wore a look of sympathy, as she spoke. “She didn’t go into too much detail about it, but I get the feeling it was explosive.”

“Understandable.” Rumald said, lowering an arm to his side, shifting his stance to stand more at her side, staying in close proximity to Belle.

Belle crooked her head to the side, her lips contorting with a thought. “I just can’t believe, she never told him. Keeping a secret like that, for all this time. It must’ve been eating her up inside.” She shook her head. “I couldn’t have done it. Keeping a secret like that, all this time.”

His eyebrows scrunched together. “Yet, you managed to keep your feelings a secret from Gaston… Your father… Me…” He lifted his hand up, extended his forefinger out and dropped his hand to point the finger at her. “And from yourself, quite successfully.”

“That was different.” She gave him a pointed look. “That wasn’t keeping a father from his son.”

“No,” He hooked his hand around the back of her neck, pulling her face closer to his. “You were keeping me from ravishing you!” Rumald declared and dipped his face into her neck, nudging his way pass the collar of her jacket, to kiss and nibble her neck.

Her knees gave out underneath her as she struggled to fight him off, pushing at his chest, while titling back her head, giving him more access, giggling down his ear. He kissed and nipped his way up to her jawline, across her cheek to the corner of her lips, and captured her lips into a searing kiss. A small groan burbled from Belle’s mouth and into Rumald’s, whilst her arms latched around Rumald’s neck.

“Could you two possibly get a room and eat face in private?” Regina inquired dryly.

Belle broke their kiss, inclining her head back to let out a heartfelt laugh at Regina’s jest. Shifting his stance, Rumald twisted his upper body to see Regina, standing on the sidewalk with her arms crossed, her sunglasses hiding her eyes, her lips formed into a playful grin.

“I need to get going anyway.” Belle told them as she lightly patted Rumald’s shoulder, who took the hint and stepped back from her.

Rumald kept Belle was leaving straight away, by taking a hold of her at her waist, manoeuvring her to stay stood in front of him, prolonging the satisfaction of her pressed up against him. “Will I see you later?”

“Did you have something in mind?” She asked in a sultry tone, slinging her arms, one by one, around his neck.

“You, me, dinner, my house?” He grinned at her.

“Sounds like heaven.” Belle quickly brushed her lips over his and said as she backed out of his arms. “I’ll come over as soon as I’m done at practise.”

“Ok, sweetheart.” Rumald could do nothing, but watch as she strolled by him, bidding farewell to Regina with the promise of seeing her later, and broke out into a jog back to Grannies.

He could feel Regina’s presence behind him, her shoulder brushing faintly into his, as she leaned into to say to him. “What’s this I hear about you being Henry’s grandfather?”

“Oh, that.” He smirked at her question before he lulled his head in her direction.

“He definitely has your eyes then.” Regina said to him, shrugging her eyebrows at him.

“Most certainly.” He agreed with her as he swung his arm, motioning towards the old picture house entrance. “Shall we?”

“I’m still not sure, what this is about or how this is going to help, Rumald.” She told him, walking with him to the door.

Reaching for the door, Rumald pulled it open and waited for Regina, who was removing her sunglasses to deposit into her handbag, to step inside the foyer before he followed her inside, saying. “You were right. There’s no way we’re going to find a venue in time for your exhibition.”

Regina frowned at him. “So, what the hell are we doing here?”

“I’m going to make you a venue.” He explained holding his arms out wide.

“Make me a venue?” Regina’s voice conveyed her disbelief.

“Come with me and let me show you, ye of little faith.” Crooking his finger at her to follow him, Rumald led the way back up the stairs to large screen room.

At the top of the stairs, Rumald motioned to the double doors, he and Marco had entered earlier, and held the door open again for Regina, following her through to stand at the top of the stairs. Marco was sat on the raised platform at the bottom of the stairs, the large screen looming above him, as he made notes in the pad resting on his thigh. For a second, Marco glanced up at hearing the door, but his eyes flicked back down, concentrating on his notes.

“Picture this.” Rumald placed his hand on her lower back and waved his hand at the screen room in front of them. “Balcony sitting up here. A large stage area and dancefloor below.” She slanted her head towards him, engrossed in what he was telling her. “You’d never have to look for a venue again. I’d give you president over everyone else, who wanted to book the space. You could then have exhibitions, competitions or even hold larger classes in here, if you so wished.”

“Wait a second.” Regina edged away from him, turning to face him, as she said. “What do I need to do, to earn this ‘president’ over everyone else?”

The corner of his mouth crooked into a sly smile. “That’s my girl.” Then he shrugged his shoulders at her, his eyes moving over the sea of the chairs. “Nothing from you yourself, dearie. I’ll be compensated by the business you bring me.”

“Well, maybe next year, but there’s no way this’ll be done in time. I need a venue in three weeks, Rumald. Not in a couple of months.” She told him, gesturing wildly to the state of the room around them.

“Regina,” Rumald pivoted to face her. “Do I need to remind you, who you’re dealing with?”

“Yeah, the devil, but unless you’ve got a Christmas miracle in your back pocket. There’s no way, this’ll be done in time.” Regina’s tone was flippant.

Placing a hand on his chest, Rumald said to her. “You leave me to worry about that. You concentrate on getting your dancers ready.”

Regina crossed her arms in front of herself. “And what if it’s not done in time? What am I going to do then?”

“I’m telling you, it’ll be done in time.” He told her firmly, reassuring her concern.

She breathed heavily out of her nose and then looked about the room. “I haven’t really got a choice.” Unfolding her arms, she pointed her finger at Rumald, telling him as she went to leave the room. “But if I see the Mayor in the meantime, I’m kicking him in the balls.”

“As long as I get to watch.” Rumald snickered, following her out of the room.

“You can hold him as I do it.” She informed him, over her shoulder.

“It would be my pleasure.” He grinned at the idea.

Regina paused at the top of the stairs and swivelled round on the balls of her feet, coming round to face Rumald, as she said. “I do appreciate you trying to help me, Rumald, but I really need this to work. The studio’s doing well and I want to expand it by opening another studio, but I need to drum up the interest to warrant moving forward with my plan.”

His heart swelled, proud of the legacy Regina was trying to build for herself. He had always known she would go far. From a young age, Rumald had seen she had the drive to push herself, to accomplish whatever goal she set herself. It was a trait they both shared, though Rumald had more patience than his prodigy. Regina could never see the bigger picture, too focus on here and now, whereas Rumald could alternate between the short or the long game. Which was why, he always got what he wanted.

Reaching out to Regina, he grasped her by her upper arms and met her gaze, seeing her worries clearly in her eyes. “I won’t let you down.”

“You better not, or I’ll kicking you in the balls.” She warned.

“How did you know I was into that sort of thing?” Rumald joked.

“Oh my god!” Regina rolled her eyes at him, whilst she quickly turned out of his grasp and descended the stairs. “I don’t want to think about the things you’re into.” She visibly shivered at the thought. “It’s like thinking of my parents having sex.” Her step halted as her shoulders hunched up to her neck. “Oh god, that’s so worse.”

Descending behind her, he chuckled. “We all do it, dearie. Young and old.”

“Don’t.” She pointed her finger at him.

They changed to the next set of stairs together, their arms briefly touching as they swayed into one another. The hint of a touch brought their gazes up to meet the other and they smiled. Taking a hold of her left elbow, Rumald aided her down the stairs, guiding her to walk close to his side. At the bottom of the stairs, he moved his hand from her elbow to her lower back and steered her to the exit, where he pushed the door open for her, awkwardly holding it for as she stepped through the doorway.

“Will you keep me updated with how things are going?” She asked whirling round to face him.

Rumald stepped out of the way of the door, letting it close itself, as he answered her. “I will.”

Regina went to take a step and stopped. “I really am happy for you, Rumald.”

His eyebrows pushed up his brow, deepening the worried lines on his forehead, surprised by her sudden statement. She took a step closer to him and placed her hand on his face. In her eyes, Rumald could see she was being sincere and that touched him deeply. He did not deserve her affection. He did not deserve to have her in his life, or any of them in his life, for the mistakes he had made in his past. All he could hope to do, was be there for them and then maybe, he stood a chance of making it up to all of them. Another step on the long road to becoming a better man.

“I’ve never seen you so…” Her eyes narrowed as she tried to think of the right word. “Content.”

Pondering her point, he titled his head to the side and he smiled once again. “No, I suppose I haven’t been for a long time.”

Regina cupped his cheek. “I’ve never seen you smile so much, either.”

“I’m sure that’s not true. There’s plenty things that make me smile.” His lips pouted in thought before he said. “Rent day… Evictions… Terrorising people…”

She rolled her eyes at him, taking her hand from his face, and started to walk away from him. “I’ll talk to you later.”

“Later, dearie.” He called after her, smirking.

He stood there for a bit, watching her sashay away, probably heading back to the dance studio. When she was near enough unrecognisable, Rumald peeled back the sleeve on his overcoat, checking the time on his watch, while he strolled around the front of his car to get into the driver’s seat. He could have walked to his destination, but he wanted his arrival to be heard, wanted them to see the car before they saw him, so they knew he was coming to see them. A glance over his shoulder for traffic and Rumald pulled away from the kerb, following the path Belle had taken earlier, and turned onto Main Street, heading south away from his shop.

His gaze drifted to Grannies as he drove by. Belle would have been nearly ready for work, possibly sat at the counter having her breakfast, while he was driving by. Knowing that she would occupied with getting to work, always so frantic to open the library on time, even though she was always ten or twenty minutes late, Rumald was confident she would not be dragged into matters that did not concern her. The audacity of her father to use her again, without her knowledge, as a commodity, made Rumald’s blood boil. If he had not been so concerned, with what Cora had said to him, he would have been silently seething about the phone call from Dove. Though, Rumald was thankful to Maurice for one thing: giving him an opportunity to work out some of his frustration.

At a creeping pace, Rumald parked directly in front of the flower shop, in plain sight of the florist, who was tidying the display of flower in the shop window. He thought about leering at Maurice from inside of his car, instead he chose to open his car door and step out of his car, meeting Maurice’s gaze over the roof of his car. Rumald saw the other man tense. Shoving his door shut, at a leisurely pace, Rumald made his way around his car to the sidewalk and sauntered into the flower shop, welcomed by the creak of the shop door.

“Good morning, Mr French.” Rumald greeted Maurice as he closed the door behind him. “I hope you are well.”

“Cut the bullshit, Gold! As I told your minion, I don’t owe you anything anymore.” Maurice bolstered, thrusting out his chest, to make himself appear bigger than the snivelling worm he was. 

Raising his gloved hand to his face, Rumald stroked his forefinger across his upper lip before jutting his finger out at Maurice, telling him. “You don’t owe anyone anything, because I paid off your debts to save your daughter from making worse mistake of her life. Not so, you could cash in on my generosity.”

“Ha!” Maurice shook his head. “You mean so you could get your hands up my daughter’s skirt?”

Rumald glared at Maurice and secured his hands in front of himself, refraining from pummelling her father to death. “Where my hands have been on your daughter is none of your concern. What should be your concern at the minute, is paying me for this month’s rent.”

“I’m not paying you a dime!” Maurice barked, a gleeful twinkle in his eye, thinking he had gotten one over Rumald.

“Now, Mr French, I’d just like to remind you, that there are clauses in your lease, which allow me to take goods from you as payment.” To emphasise his point, he waved to the contents of the shop. “Stock, furniture, equipment, etcetera.”

Maurice blew a breath out through his teeth. “Don’t throw your empty threats around my shop, Gold. You’re not going to take anything from my shop. You wouldn’t dare, seeing as my little girl wouldn’t be very happy about it.”

Rocking forward on the balls of his feet, Rumald shrugged his shoulders, clasping his hands in front of him, and said. “This is where we differ, Mr French. This is business, not personal.” Titling his head to the side, he added. “Although, I do take great pleasure in what I’m about to do.”

“What?” Maurice blurted out, tossing a bunch of flowers he had been holding to one side.

With a flare, Rumald whipped his phone out of pocket and called Dove, who instantly answered. “Take it.”

Returning his phone to his pocket, he clasped his hands in front of him again and waited. Distantly, the sound of an engine roaring to life could be heard. Maurice’s brow twitched with recognition, though his disbelief kept his brow from morphing into a frown. The sound grew louder and clearer. Timing it just right, Rumald turned his gaze to the street outside, watching as Dove drove passed the front of the shop, driving away in Maurice’s van. It took a second or two for Maurice to realise it was his van. Though, Rumald would have thought, the big ‘Games of Thorns’ logo on the side of the vehicle was a big giveaway.

“My van?” Maurice stumbled a step closer to the shop window, helpless but to watch the taillights of his van get further away. “You’re taking my van!”

Rumald leaned to get a better view. “Looks like it.”

“You’ve taken my daughter!” Maurice swung round to face Rumald. “Now, you’ve taken my van, my livelihood! What else are you going to take? The shirt off my back?”

“I’d rather not, dearie, not my style.” Was his wryly reply, motioning to his suit.

“I’m going to rip your head off!” Maurice yelled as he launched himself at Rumald, preparing to throw his large fist into Rumald’s face.

Without considering his options, Rumald simply ducked and stepped out of the way, dancing quickly around Maurice. Whipping round, Maurice lunged again with another fist aimed at Rumald’s head. He twisted out of the path of the fist, raising an eyebrow at the larger man. Maurice let out a frustrated cry before trying again, throwing first his left fist and then his right, when the first had missed its target. Swiping angrily through the air at Rumald, Maurice put himself off balance and Rumald took advantage of the situation, hitting the palm of his hand into the centre of Maurice’s chest. The larger man staggered back, clutching both of his hands to his chest, wheezing for breath. His knees hit the floor with a loud thud, while Maurice cradled his hands to his chest, trying desperately to suck in a breath.

Rumald flicked out the tail of his overcoat before he knelt down, bringing him face to face with Maurice. “As soon as you pay me this month’s rent, I will return your van. But…” Rumald grabbed Maurice by his throat, tightly squeezing his grip. “If you ever – EVER – think about using Belle as a bargaining chip again, I’ll break every bone in your body, starting with the smallest.”

Maurice’s face was rapidly changing from bright red to a dark reddest colour, as Rumald questioned him. “Do I make myself clear, Mr French?”

A strange noise escaped from deep down in Maurice’s throat. Accepting that noise as a ‘ _yes’_ , Rumald let go of Maurice’s throat and stood to his full height, while Maurice bundled himself into a ball on the floor, taking in an exaggerated breath, almost sounding like a banshee. Rumald stepped over the poor excuse of a father, tugging at the lapels of his overcoat, and opened the door to the shop, giving Maurice’s crumpled form one last look before he stepped out of the shop, closing the door behind him.


	48. Chapter 48

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Emma comes to see Rumald at the shop and Belle is finding it to understand something, Regina was trying to teach her.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Song: Christina Aguilera - Bound to You

Rubbing back and forth in a smooth even motion, Rumald keenly eyed the edge of the antique ottoman, he was in the process of restoring, smoothing out the nicks in the wood and removing the discoloured varnish. He had been working on it for most of the afternoon. Most of his morning had been spent making calls, ordering and acquiring things for the old picture house. A little nudge in the side of the Mayor, and the permits and licenses were being authorised and completed, with the promise they would be delivered to the shop the next morning. Pleased with his productive morning, Rumald had chosen to have a laid back afternoon and had pulled the ottoman out from where it had been sat, waiting for him to make a start on it.

Rumald drastically leant to his right side, checking the line of the edge in case he had taken too much off. He always enjoyed his sort of work. Anything that occupied his hands and his mind, lulling him into a peaceful trance, where he could think clearly and forget his other worries. Though it was not working like it normally did. The encounter with Cora was very much the focus of his thoughts. He wished he could say it was Neal, who should have been the focus of his attention, but not knowing what Cora’s scheme was and what she hoped to gain from it, troubled him. 

His ears pricked to the sound of the bell above the front door of the shop. “Gold!”

“What now?” He mumbled to himself, tossing the sanding block onto a nearby workbench.

Rumald crossed to the curtained doorway, which was pegged back out of his way, and looked into the front of the shop to find Emma, standing in the middle of his shop. There were dark rings around her eyes, her shoulders were square and her fists were sat prominently on her hips - She meant business. 

“Miss Nolan,” He greeted her, rubbing his hands together as he came into the front of the shop. “What can I do for you?”

“Have you heard from Neal?” Emma demanded, stomping the short distance to confront him.

His eyebrows narrowed down over his eyes, not appreciating the tone she had taken with him, and said. “No, not as yet.”

“Oh god!” She raised her hand to touch her forehead and closed her eyes, silently consoling herself, then dropped her hand from her face to point a finger at Rumald, a fire in her eyes, as she accused him. “This is all your fault!”

“My fault?” He laid his hand on his chest. “I believe the initial fault lies with you and my son for not taking precautions.” Rumald calmly threw back at her.

“You told me to tell him! Everything was going fine until you decided to meddle!” Her finger shook under the strain of her pent up anger.

He held his tongue as he rolled down his sleeves, counting to ten in his head, and said, securing his cuffs with the cuff links from his pocket. “Lies and secrets, Miss Nolan, are poison to our souls. In time, you will thank me for confessing the truth to my son, whether you’re together or not. Because now, you share a bond that no one - no one - can ever break.” He tugged his cuffs, straightening his sleeves. “My son has a pure heart, full of love and forgiveness, which is why I’ve no doubt that this situation will sort itself out.” His gaze moved to somewhere over her shoulder. “If he can forgive me, for all the pain and suffering I have put him through, I am sure, he’ll forgive you as well.”

She retracted her hand, lowering it to her side as she casted her gaze down onto the floor between their feet. “He was so angry.”

“What were you expecting? Joyful cries of hysteria?” Rumald asked, his tone dry.

“No, of course not.” Emma barked back at him and then sheepishly returned her gaze to her feet. “Just… I’d been so preoccupied with worrying about what to say and how to say it, I hadn’t thought about his reaction.” She confessed to him.

Rumford breathed in and held it for a second, secretly grimacing at the heavy ache in his chest. He could empathise with her, knowing very well, what it was like to be her shoes. It was a symptom of human nature to be selfish. A strong person was able to ignore these tendencies, shush the secretive whispers that encouraged you to make the wrong decisions and take whatever you wanted, damning the consequences. Rumald was no such person. He was weak and he accepted he was, did not pretend to be anything else. But for Belle… he was trying with all his might to be stronger.

Half heartedly grinning at her, he said. “A consequence of being selfish.”

She made a sound like humph at him and snapped at him. “And you’d know all about that! Wouldn’t you?”

Her words lightly stung him, nothing though he could not easily shrug away, as he told her. “Hence, dearie, why I told you to tell him.”

“So I could hurt him as well?” Emma gestured to herself. “You know,” she threw her hands up into the air and smacked them down to her sides. “I used to defend you to Neal, when we were younger, and he used to say you didn’t love him or care about him. I used to tell him that it must have been your way of working through his mother leaving you.”

Rumald could not help but chuckle at her, whilst she continued. “I’d tell him that you loved him and would do anything for him, but you were hurting too much to see that Neal needed you.” He sobered. “Now though, now that I know you a little better, you enjoy hurting people, hurting Neal. You’re sick, Gold! And you don’t deserve to have a son like Neal!”

Painfully clenching his jaw, he glared at Emma, wanting nothing more than to slap her across the face, send her sprawling onto the floor and stand over her, slapping her till the pain in his heart eased. She had no idea what she was talking about, or how close her words were to the truth. Rumald relaxed his jaw and peeled his gaze away from Emma, and turned away from her to walk behind his counter, placing his splayed out hands onto the edge of the counter.

“I think our conversation is done, dearie.” He nodded to the door. “You know where the door is.”

“That I do.” She grumbled as she whipped away, her long blonde hair flicked up behind her, and stalked grumpily to the door. 

Emma forcefully yanked open the door, nearly jangling the bell above the door off its mount, and looked back at him, letting the early evening cold air into his shop. “Belle will see what you’re like, what you’re really like, so make the most of it while you can.”

“Goodbye, Miss Nolan.” Was his only retort. 

The door slammed behind her, sending the bell into ecstatic fit of glee, which slowly died off, leaving the shop in silence. All Rumald could hear was his own heavy breathing. Beneath his calm exterior, his blood was rushing around body, his heart hammering against his chest, with his pulse thudding loudly in his ears. The hum of his anger seething through his veins, calling out for blood, sent a shiver through his body. Breathing in and out, in and out, was the only thing keeping him grounded.

If she had been anyone else, Rumald would not have held back and would have hit back with his own remarks about her past behaviour. He was not the only one, who had ever wronged his son. His head bowed, heavy with the burden he carried. All he ever wanted was the best for his son, wanted him to know love and that he had been wanted. Not be abandoned and question whether his father ever truly loved him. That had been Rumald’s childhood and he had failed, giving his son the exact same childhood, although his father had done him the kindness of removing himself from Rumald’s life. Whereas Rumald had flaunted himself in front of his son, carried on as though his son had not mattered and basked himself in the love of a woman, who had no care in her heart for Neal or even her own children. 

Sucking in a breath, calmer, he lifted his head, taking his hands off the counter, and marched through into the back of the shop. He contemplated doing some more work to the ottoman. He should do some more work to it, seeing as it had been waiting so long for his attention. Instead, he walked by it to collect his suit jacket to put it on and threw his overcoat over his arm. A flick of his finger and the back door was locked. What Emma had said lingered with him, whilst he walked to the curtained doorway, shrugging on his overcoat. She had not told him anything, he did not already know, but her words had struck him deeply and wanted to nurse the ache with a large glass of whiskey.

As he walked through the doorway to the front, Rumald stopped, confronted by the spot, where moments ago Emma had been taking her anger out on him. He was not stupid. That was why she had come to him, wanting to blame someone else. It did not make it right, but he understood why she needed to do it. Rumald had spent nearly a lifetime hating himself, blaming himself, passing that onto someone else would be a God send, but a burden he could never live with. Nobody should have to darken themselves because of his own faults. 

Kicking himself into gear, Rumald strolled through the front of the shop to the door and opened the door, ringing the bell much gentler than Emma had, and flicked off the lights as he stepped outside. He glanced in the direction of the Sheriff’s office as he took his keys out of his pocket. Shaking his head at himself, Rumald stepped round to the door and locked it, checked it was locked, and pocketed his keys, heading to his Cadillac parked in the alleyway beside the shop. 

Ten minutes and he was home, parking the Cadillac in his drive, looking up at his house shrouded in darkness. He thought about how nice it was to come home to a brightly lit house, even if it did annoy him, when Neal left the lights on. Just know someone else was there and he was not alone was worth the cost. 

Rumald pulled the latch to release his door and climbed out of his car, sparing a moment to glance around him, pushing his car door close behind him. The street was quiet, like it always was. Though, as he walked around the front of the car, crossing to the front porch steps, he could still envision Neal playing hockey with his friends, flying on his rollerblades. The memory made the corners of Rumald’s lips quirk up. Neal had been an adventurous child, braver than Rumald had ever been as a child, not until his aunts had taken him to the dance studio, enrolling him into ballroom lessons. Then his confidence had grown, an inner strength developed, while the coward in him latched itself onto his leg, desperate to not be abandoned again. 

Tired with his thoughts, Rumald rubbed a hand over his face as he climbed the porch steps, and combed his fingers through his hair. At the top of the steps, he peeled back his left sleeve, seeing he had just over an hour until Belle would arrive. Possibly a little more, if she decided to walk. He had no clue what he was going to cook. His eyebrows scrunched together in thought as he took out his keys and unlocked his front door, turning on the foyer light as he entered. Shrugging off his overcoat to hang on a peg, Rumald twisted his lips, listing off the contents of the fridge inside of his head. She would not expect anything fancy, she would just be glad to be spending the evening with him, but he wanted it to be special. Wanted to make every minute, every second, they spent together count. So with that in mind, Rumald removed his suit jacket upon entering the kitchen, discarding it to the couch of the sitting area, and rolled his sleeves back up, pocketing his cufflinks, as he waltzed into the kitchen.

In a flurry of activity, Rumald chopped and diced some vegetables, preparing a salad to go with the steaks he was searing in the pan behind him, while he worked at the kitchen island. He briefly turned away from the chopping board, using a pair of tongues to turn over the steaks, checking they were completely seared. Happy, he took the pan off the light and put it into the oven, checking the time with the clock on the mantle above the fireplace. Half an hour would be plenty of time, he told himself, gathering the vegetables for his salad to drop them into a large wooden serving bowl. He drizzled it with a dressing and tossed it a few times, and then left it to sit. 

Now that he was waiting for the things in the oven to finish cooking, he decided to indulge himself with a glass wine and sauntered over to the wine rack, hidden in the end of the counter that separated the kitchen from the sitting area. Pulling out a bottle of red, which was the only choice in the rack, as the white was kept in the fridge, Rumald glanced at the label, checking the year. He put the bottle back and picked another, an older bottle, and traipsed through the kitchen to the cutlery draw, while something started to ring on the other side of the room. 

Thinking it might be Belle, Rumald abandoned the bottle and skipped a few steps to get to his suit jacket, scrambling to get his phone out and answer it. “Gold.”

“Hey dad.” Neal greeted, sounding very remorseful. 

At hearing his son’s voice, Rumald let out a breath and sat back onto the back of the couch, saying. “I haven’t stopped thinking about you all weekend. Are you okay?”

“Somewhat.” There was a little chuckle. “I’ve still got a huge hangover from Saturday.”

“I could imagine.” He smiled at his son’s confession.

“How was your weekend in New York? Did Belle have a good time?” Neal asked, skirting around the white elephant in the room.

Rumald stood and went back into the kitchen, pinning the phone between his ear and his shoulder, talking to Neal as he opened the bottle of wine. “It was good. She had a good time at the party, then we spent the Sunday sightseeing until we caught the flight back.”

“She’s definitely got you wrapped around her little finger.” Neal commented with a chuckle. “You’ve never taken me sightseeing. It was always business, when I came with you to New York.”

 _‘You don’t deserve to have a son like Neal.’_ Emma words echoed in his ears as the guilt took a hold of his heart and squeezed. How did he miss so much? Closing his eyes, Rumald put the unopened bottle of wine down onto the counter with a clunk and slumped against it, his hip bearing his weight. He could see his son, nestled in his arms, wrapped warmly in a blanket, sleeping soundly, while his mother recovered from the ordeal. So much promise he had held in his arms. A chance at a new beginning, to prove he was a better man than his father had ever been. More empty promises he had made and he had broken, proving himself to be a worse father than his own had been.

Neal cleared his throat, bringing Rumald out of his daze, and said. “I really appreciate you texting me, dad. I hadn’t expected to hear from you.” 

“I’m trying to do better, son.” Rumald confessed, his voice full of raw emotion, hung up on the memory of holding his son for the first time. 

“Hey,” Rumald could hear the concern in his son’s voice. “Are you okay?”

“Yes. I’m okay. Don’t worry about me.” He told his son, straightening his back, squaring his shoulders, and changed the subject. “Thank you for doing those plans. Let me know what I owe you and I’ll put it in your account.”

There was a tut before his son spoke. “Dad, I didn’t do it for money, I did it because you asked.” There was a pause. “Plus, it gave me something to take my mind off Emma.”

Rumald stooped forward to open the oven, offering to his son. “Would you like to talk about it?”

“Not yet.” Neal said immediately, then was quiet for a few seconds. “I need to get my head around the idea that I have… A son.”

“No doubt, it seems very daunting at the minute, but, yes, give yourself time.” He agreed, even though he hoped his son felt he could talk to him, when he was ready to talk about. 

Wearing an oven mit, Rumald took out the pan with the steaks and the tray with the fries he had made, placing them on top of the cooker, as Neal said. “She didn’t want to give me time. I told her I needed to think, but she wanted to keep talking about it. Telling me how she thought it was for the best.”

Rumald used his foot to close the oven door, while he shook off the oven mit, frowning at his son talking about, and said. “From someone, who’s been in Emma’s position…” He paused, questioning himself as to whether he should continue. “It was probably like a floodgate opening and once she started talking about it, she couldn’t stop herself. She has sat on this secret for nine years.”

“Nine years, dad?” Neal repeated himself. “Nine fucking years of my son’s life, I’ve missed out on!”

“I know.” Rumald placed his hand on the kitchen island counter. “And sadly, son, you’ll never get those years back. The only thing you can do now, is make the most of the time you’ve got now with him, because I can guarantee that time will go by so quickly and before you know it, you’ll miss out on your chance to be there for him. You’ll regret missing out on so much.” 

“It’s not like I had a choice, dad.” Neal snapped down the phone. 

“Yes, sorry, I know. I mean more from this point onwards.” He swallowed before continuing. “Don’t miss out on things like I did, Neal. What’s done is done. What matters now is what you do next.”

Neal was quiet until he said. “Yeah, I see your point.”

Rumald wore a sad smile as he told his son. “You’re going to be a great dad.”

His son laughed. “How’d you know that? I haven’t really been a dad to him yet.”

“Because you’re not me.” His head bowed as tears threatened to spill down his cheeks.

“Dad…” Neal crooned down the phone. 

“Look… Erm... “ Rumald wiped away the unshed tears from his eyes, raising his head to look around the kitchen for an excuse to get off the phone. “Belle’s going to be here any minute and I need to finish dinner. How about I give you a call later? Or message you… Or something?”

“You weren’t a terrible dad.” A tear fell in a rush down his cheek. “Before her, you were my hero. It was her that ruined you.” Neal stated, while another tear skimmed down Rumald’s cheek. 

Swiping a hand at the hot wet path down his cheek, Rumald blinked away the other tears, telling his son. “Yes, well… I’m probably more a villain than a hero material, son.”

Neal laughed. “To some maybe, but you’ll always be a hero to me, dad.” Another wave of tears wanted to fall, as Neal said. “Go and finish dinner, and give Belle my best. I’ll talk to you later.”

“Okay.” Rumald smiled through the fresh tears falling. “Anytime, son.”

“Night, dad.” Neal said, which Rumald returned. 

Holding the phone away from his ear, the screen lit up, showing Neal’s name at the top of the screen, the caller counter underneath, and then the screen cleared and returned to the locked screen, a picture of a painting Rumald liked. He stood there, his phone cradle in his hand, looking down at it, with one last tear streaming down his face. They had never been as open with one another as they had been during their phone call.

The front doorbell rang. Snapping his gaze up from his phone to the foyer, he could just about make out a figure standing on the porch through the coloured glass. Quickly, he pocketed his phone and went to the sink, turning on taps to wash his face with water, hopefully hiding the evidence of his tears. He dried his face and his hands on the way to the front door, and flung the tea towel over his shoulder as he grabbed the door handle and opened the front door. The smile she greeted him with made him feel instantly better. 

“Hello, handsome.” was her greetings. 

“Hello, sweetheart.” Rumald smiled at her as he ushered her into the house, dipping his gaze to the large bag she brought in with her. 

“You okay?” She asked pivoting on foot to face him. “You look like you’ve been crying.”

“No, no. Just the heat from the oven caught me.” He motioned to the kitchen. 

Belle dumped her bag at the bottom step of the stairs and removed her coat, saying. “What are we having? It smells delicious!”

“Nothing special.” Rumald took her coat from her and hung it up beside his own. “Just steak.”

Her hand grabbed the front of his waistcoat, drawing him closer to her. “Making me dinner is special.”

“Mmm…” He wrapped his arms around her, bringing her even closer, so her body pressed against him. “Making you dinner… Sounds good to me!” And launched an attack on her neck, nibbling just under her jaw, near her ear, which he found made Belle make such a heavenly noise. 

“Oh god….!” She groaned, clutching the front of his waistcoat. 

He needed this, needed her. to make him feel better. Breathing in the smell of her, Rumald forgot instantly about biting her and nuzzled his face into the crook of her neck, grabbing fistfuls of the back of her cardigan. Tenderly her hand came to the back of his head, cradling it in the palm of her hand, whilst she wrapped her other arm around him. Her head rested against the side of his, quietly holding him. He could have cried again. Could have let it all go and pour himself out to her, but he would not indulge himself or lumber her with his troubled thoughts. 

“Are you alright?” Belle asked, stroking the back of his head. 

He breathed her in, filling his lungs, and raised his head, standing to his full height, telling her. “I’m just so glad to see you.”

“Hard day?” She queried. 

“Something like that.” He unwrapped his right arm from around her and brought his hand up to her face, caressing her cheek with the backs of his fingers. “You?”

“It was okay. Regina was giving me a bit of a hard time, but apart from that, I’ve had a good day.” Belle played with the hair behind his left ear as she told him. 

Rumald waved his arm towards the kitchen. “Here, tell me over dinner.”

“There’s not much to tell really.” She went with him into the kitchen, his hand touching her lower back. 

“What was Regina giving you a hard time about?” He questioned as he increased his stride to overtake her into the kitchen and began plating up their food. 

“She says I’m not showing enough feelings as I’m dancing.” Belle said with a confused look on her face. “Whatever that means.”

Rumald picked up their two plates and gestured for her to follow him into the dining room. “Exhibition dancing is more a theatrical performance, whereas competition is focused more on skill and presence.”

“She just kept saying, listen to the music. Feel the music. I thought she was going to turn into Yoda and make me do a one handed handstand.” She huffed and pulled out a chair at the table. 

“Can you?” He asked, eyes wide with interest, whilst he placed their plates onto the table. 

Her brow scowled at him. “No.”

“The force is not strong with this one.” He mocked, shaking his head at her, as he went to go back into the kitchen. 

“I’ve got no idea what she means.” Belle continued, ignoring his quip. “I’m listening to the music. I’m dancing in time. As long as I do the steps, what else could she possibly want?”

Rumald unwrapped the seal around the neck of the wine bottle and positioned the corkscrew on the cork, saying loudly as he uncorked it. “It’s the emotion she wants to see.” WIth a small amount of effort and quiet grunt, the cork popped out of the bottle. “She’s probably not explaining it very well.”

“Maybe you can enlighten me then.” She said flippantly, a hint of temper behind her voice. 

“Hang on.” He gathered their cutlery and two empty wine glasses, hooking their stems with his fingers, and brought them with the bottle of wine into the dining room. “It’s not something you can simply explain.” He told her, offering a knife and fork to her, as he sat down onto the chair, Belle must have moved out for him. 

“Try.” She told him, cutting into her steak. 

Rumald thought about it, whilst he put the bottle of wine to one side, allowing it to breath, and put an empty glass by Belle and then himself, before he began to try and explain. “What she’s talking about, is that feeling you get when you listen to a song, or possibly watching a movie, or reading a book.” He waved a hand towards her as he said ‘book’. “It’s that ball of emotion you feel in your chest, when something’s... touched you.”

“Like the horse dying at the beginning of Neverending Story?” Belle smirked at him, slightly mocking him.

“It could be for someone.” He shrugged his shoulders at her. 

Feeding a piece of steak into her mouth, Belle closed her eyes, savouring the taste, and said to him. “This is really good.”

“It’s steak.” Rumald’s brow pushed slightly up his forehead, disbelieving she was enjoying something so simple. 

“But it's so good.” And put another piece into her mouth, saying around her mouthful. “And you cooked it and I didn’t.” She grinned at him. 

Rumald eyed her, while cutting into his own steak. “I seem to be at a disadvantage with your living arrangements.”

Belle laid her knife on her plate and reached across the table to touch his forearm. “I’m not complaining.”

He laughed. “Yes, you don’t have to cook. It’s either me or Granny cooking your meals.”

“And I don’t have to wash up, either.” She beamed, waving a forkful of food in the air. 

“Yeah,” Rumald chuckled, raising his fork to his mouth. “That’s what you think.”

Belle sighed. “It’s just nice not having to worry about doing things around the house.” She rolled her eyes, pushing some more food onto her fork. “Seeing as I used to do all of it.”

“Yes…” He mumbled under his breath, not wanting to talk about her time or relationship with Gaston. “As I was saying,” He waved his knife as he spoke, steering the conversation away from her past. “Regina wants to see you express that feeling.”

“She wants me to break down into tears, balling my eyes out on the floor, because Artax died?” She gave him a pointed look. 

Grinning his amusement, Rumald shook his head. “No, sweetheart, just to express it.” He gestured with his fork in the direction of the stairs. “Look, after dinner, I’ll take you downstairs and try and show you.”

“Downstairs?” She repeated, looking to him for an answer.

“Yes, downstairs.” He waggled his eyebrows at her. “To my sex dungeon.”

Belle laughed, dropping her knife and fork onto her plate with a clatter. “Oh, could you imagine people’s faces, if I started telling everyone you had a sex dungeon?” She held her hands to her chest as she added. “I could just see Leroy’s face!”

Rumald let out a soft chuckle. “Would be quite funny.”

“Fifty shades of Gold.” She said thoughtfully. 

“No.” He shook his head at her, while he picked up the bottle of wine to pour both of them a glass. 

“Ruby’s going to love it.” She closed her mouth around her fork, slowly drawing out her fork, meeting Rumald’s gaze as she did it. 

He put the bottle down, telling her. “If I hear, any whispers of ‘Fifty shades of Gold’ around town, I’ll be showing you the X rated version of that film.”

“Really, dearie?” Rumald gave her a stern look after she said it, but he could not stop himself from smirking at her. 

Already, he had forgotten about the ache in his chest, his troubling thoughts and the heavy chain of guilt around his neck. Blatantly, Rumald observed her finishing her meal, hardly touching his own, while he took a moment to consider her. Belle was so blissfully unaware of the effect she had on him. She was his compass, keeping him true and straight, keeping him centre. Everything was so much easier, when she was near him, allowing him to think clearly. It made him feel guilty, because he had nothing to offer her in return, only taking solace in her presence. 

“Come on then.” Belle laid her cutlery onto her plate and stood, reaching for his hand. “Come and show me, what Regina’s babbling about.”

Rumald did not say anything to her. He simply obeyed, putting his hand in hers, bringing his glass of wine with him, as she led the way from the dining room to the door of the basement. As she opened the door, Belle glanced back at him, shrugging her eyebrows at him, showing her excitement, and headed down the stairs. He rolled his eyes and shook his head, amused by her excitement. His finger flicked on the lights in the basement before he descended the stairs. 

“Do you know the name of the song, you and Will are dancing to?” Rumald inquired, stepping off the last step to join her in the basement. 

He sipped his wine as Belle told him, following him through to the wall partition at what would be the rear of the basement. “It’s called, Bound to You.”

After opening the door, Rumald took his phone out and gave it to Belle. “Find it.”

“Okay.” She took his phone and searched for the song, as Rumald stepped into the room, turning on the lights. 

The room was as wide as the house and half the length of the house. The last time, he stepped in there, was the last lesson he had with Regina, when Rumald had told her he had nothing more to teach her. A room that had once given him so much pleasure, now had an eerie feel to it. Memories of building it, of practising with Cora, of making love to her, of teaching Regina, haunted him as he stood there, looking about the room. He took a step, looking at his reflection in the mirror that stretched along the back wall of the house. 

“Here it is.” Belle came into the room, offering the phone to him. 

“Thank you.” He said, taking the phone from her, and set off at a quick pace to the sound system, set up in the corner of the room. 

“Regina said, you have a dance studio in your basement.” She commented from somewhere over his shoulder. 

Rumald did not answer her, feeling dazed from the flood of memories. For so long, he had blocked himself off from thinking about their time together, reminiscing about the good times. They had spent so much time in here at one point - morning, noon and night. Pushing each other to be better, to perfect a turn or hold. Hungry for their next win. Striving for their next high, which they could ride out together, putting the passion back into their dancing and in between the sheets.

“Hey,” He started at her voice, finding Belle stood beside him, her hand laid on his shoulder. “Are you okay?”

“Yes.” He shook away his thoughts. “Sorry.” And turned on the soundsystem. 

Belle squeezed his shoulder. “Rumald, we don’t have to be in here, if it upsets you.”

“It doesn’t upset me. Just memories.” He was honest with her and turned his head to her, showing her a weak smile. 

She moved her hand from his shoulder to cup his cheek, and smiled at him. “Let’s make some new ones then.”

The corners of his mouth twitched higher. Nodding his head at her, Rumald connected his phone to the sound system and set the song she had found playing through the speakers. He swivelled on the balls of his feet to face her and offered his hand to her. With a small giggle, Belle laid her hand into his open hand and he clasped his fingers around her hand, using their joined hands to lead her to the middle of the room. He twirled her and caught her with his free arm, putting them into a dancing position. 

“It’s not just listening to the song for the beat or changes in tempo.” He explained as he swayed with her. “Sometimes, it’s about listening to the lyrics or the tune and expressing how they make you feel.”

“I love dancing with you.” She expressed, stepping closer to him, making him readjust his hold on her. 

“Are you listening to me? Or was this a ploy to dance with me?” Rumald asked, titling his head to the side to get a better view of her face. 

“Both.” She grinned at him. 

He twirled her, looking off to one side to hide his grin, and took her back into his arms, carrying on with his explanation. “What I used to do, was listen to the song over and over again, and put myself in the song.”

“In the song?” Belle frowned at him as she asked. 

“Yeah.” He dropped his hands from her and held up a finger to her. “Hold on.” 

Rushing over to the sound system, Rumald restarted the song and turned up the volume, and rushed back to Belle’s side. He held her by her waist and turned her, so her back faced him, and kept her in front of him. LIstening, he tapped the beat out on her right side with his thumb.

“Close your eyes and listen to the lyrics.” He instructed, lowering his mouth to barely whisper in her ear.

Her head slanted to touch his, but he could see in the mirror that she had done as instructed. Moving her into a gentle sway with his hands on her waist, Belle’s hands came up to rest on top of his hands. As the lyrics progressed, he could see a small frown form on Belle’s brow, while her hand came up to touch the side of his face. The singer sang, ‘ _I found a man I can trust’_ , and hand pressed more firmly to his face. 

“Do you feel it now?” Rumald whispered into her ear. 

Belle nodded her head and Rumald dipped his head lower, placing a sweet kiss just below her earlobe. He took her hand down from his face and held it in his own, and slowly turned her round to face him, taking up a dance position with her. Her eyes were still closed and remained that way, trusting Rumald as he began to waltz with her. Narrowing the space between them, pressing her breasts to his chest, he watched her face as she listened to the lyrics. 

He angled his head down to whisper in her ear again. “Put yourself in the lyrics.”

Leaning back, Belle had opened her eyes and met his gaze, and he crooked a smile at her, seeing in her eyes that she finally understood. Her hand on his shoulder moved again to touch his face, stroking her thumb over his cheek. There was so much emotion shining in her eyes - happiness, sadness, regret, possibly lust - that Rumald was not sure what exactly she was feeling. What he was sure about was that he loved her, loved her so much, he knew he would become nothing if she left him. There was no going back now for Rumald. He had opened his heart and had bounded his soul to this woman in his arms. And from the way her eyes widened as she gazed up at him, Rumald knew she could see how he felt in his eyes.

The tempo changed and Rumald spun her, and then used their joined hands to support her as he lifted her up, continuing the twirl. She took advantage of her new position above him and latched her lips onto Rumald’s, letting go of his hand to grab at his shoulder. Securing his arm around her, he pinned her to his chest, keeping her from falling, while they hungrily kissed one another. Gradually he slowed and stopped, and lowered her to her feet, never breaking the kiss with her. 

Breaking the kiss and taking in a very loud breath, her hands clutched at his face as Belle touched her forehead to his. “I love you.”

“I love you too.” He told her, unwrapping his arms to take a hold of her face, threading his fingers into her hair, as he joked with her. “Although, if you kiss Will like that, when you’re dancing, I’m going to kill him.”


	49. Chapter 49

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Rumald gets an update from Marco and pops in to see Belle on the way to his shop.

Rumald had a hand on the makeshift workbench, Marco had setup in front of the stage area, his feet crossed at his ankles, listening to Marco’s suggestions as Marco pointed to different points in the plans. The past two days had given Marco plenty of time to inspect the building, while his men tore down the walls and ceilings, dividing the three screen rooms. They had not wasted any time. The parking lot at the back of the building, was littered with rubbish they had removed from the building - a huge pile of seats, three rolled up screens and various piles of rubble. The old picture house felt colder and bigger after so much of it had been torn out, and they were not even finished yet.

“See here,” Marco pointed to the projection booth on the plans, what had been for the large screen room. “We could knock through and put a wall length window in.”

Rumald was intrigued. “Spying on everyone below?”

“I suppose, but it’s more to let some natural light into that room. Otherwise, it’ll feel like a tome in there.” Marco twisted, waving to the room in question.

“If you think you can do it in time with the other work, then do it, Marco.” He said, drawing back the left flap of his overcoat to brace his hand on his hip. 

Marco gestured to the room. “Thursday, we should have all the prep work done, and then Friday, I want to start constructing the balcony as that’s what going to take the time.” Then waved to the projection room. “I can spare a couple of men to cut a hole through the wall, reinforce and prep it ready for the window.”

“Let Dove know the size and he can organise the window for you.” Rumald instructed. 

Marco nodded his head. “The wiring looks as though they updated it over the years and looks to be in good condition. No chew marks or dodgy wiring, so it shouldn’t take too much work to bring it up to present code.”

“That’s good.” Rumald’s brow raised his forehead, surprised.

“There’s a small amount of damp in some of the rooms in the basement, but that won’t take much to rectify.” Marco commented, bobbing his head to the side. 

Uncrossing his feet, Rumald took his hand off his hip and touched Marco’s shoulder. “I’m waiting for the bad news.”

“Surprisingly, I haven’t got any.” Marco shrugged his shoulders. “Whatever there is, it's minimal or will be sorted during renovation work. There isn’t really anything that should give us any problems. Unless something drastic happens.”

Rumald stepped away from Marco, turning to look round at the shell of what was left of the large screen room. “Famous last words, Marco.”

“I hope not.” Marco muttered, moving to the end of the workbench, reaching into his bag to take out a thermos. “Coffee?”

“Thank you, but no.” Rumald said, waving off Marco’s offer. “I should check in with Dove. I haven’t been to the shop yet.”

“Okay, I’ll call you, if something comes up.” Marco told him, unscrewing the lid on his thermos.

Rumald gave him a curt nod and walked away, casting his gaze to the extremely high ceiling above his head. It was still as daunting as it had been when he had first arrived, standing in the doorway to one of the small screen rooms, able to see the large screen area of the large screen room, with nothing left of the small screen rooms. He passed by the two bobcats, they had used to tear down the walls, sat idle waiting for a job. The beautiful rooms destroyed and ripped back to the bare exterior walls. Rumald knew it would be worth it in the end, once they had infused the building with a new lease of life, it would be beautiful again.

Pushing open the door to the building, Rumald strolled out onto the sidewalk and walked straight out into the street, crossing to head to his shop. He had parked his car there earlier and walked straight over to the old picture house, wanting an update from Marco. He had not stopped all day. He had gotten up early, springing an early visit on tenants and debtors, who had not paid or half paid on Saturday on Dove. After his rounds, he had popped into the bank, opening a new account for the old picture house, and moved a considerable amount into the account. He had not stopped for lunch, instead he had driven to Falmouth, to pick up a painting, which someone had called him about yesterday, wanting him to restore the frame. It must have been about mid-afternoon, when he arrived back in Storybrooke. 

He was getting closer to the intersection, where the street met with Main Street, and his gaze naturally went to the large cream building with the clock tower above it. The last time he had seen her was yesterday morning, doing stretches on the bottom steps of his porch, preparing to run back to Grannies. He had been standing at the top of the stairs, cup of coffee in his hand, wearing his silk robe over his pyjamas, feeling the chill of the early morning as he watched her.

“I’ve left my bag in your room.” Belle had informed him as she changed legs and bent over, reaching to touch the toe of her sneaker. 

“Do you want me to bring it in with me?” He had offered, taking a step down the porch. 

She shook her head at him, unfolding herself to be her full height. “I’ll get it next time I come over.”

“You can leave some things here, if you want? I wouldn’t mind.” Rumald had been a few steps from the bottom of the stairs, when he had said it.

Taking her foot off the step, turning to meet him as he had stepped off the steps, and had stretched her arms above her head, smiling as she had said. “I’ll bring a few things then, next time.”

He had taken a drink from his coffee, finishing it, and had tossed the remains onto the front lawn, saying to her. “I really don’t mind giving you a ride into town.”

“No, it’s fine.” She had lowered her arms down to her sides. “It should be a good run to Granny’s from here. Plus, you shouldn’t have to go in early, because of me.”

With a sly smile, Rumald had hooked his finger into the front of her jacket and had urged her to come closer to him. “If it’s a good workout you’re after, Miss French, I’m sure I could facilitate your needs.”

Belle had laid her hands onto his chest. “You did a very good job of that last night,”, she had tiptoed up the short distance and had kissed him. “but I - need - to go for a run.”

“You - need - to come back to bed!” He had declared, whilst capturing her into his arms and throwing her down onto the porch steps, careful not to hurt her as he had hastily laid her onto the steps.

She had laughed, tightly holding onto the front of his robe. “Rumald, I need to go!”

He had covered her mouth with his, thoroughly kissing her, whilst he had groped a cheek of her butt, firmly kneading the luscious mound of flesh in his hand. Instinctually, her legs had wrapped high around his waist, allowing him to settle between her legs. Needing to feel her, to touch her, Rumald had slipped his hand into her leggings, removing the layer between his hand and her. 

“Ooo!” Belle had gasped loudly. “Your hand is cold!”

“It’ll get warmer in a second.” He had told her, delving his hand deeper into her leggings, seeking her warmth.

“Stop!” She had laughed, pushing against him, unwrapping her legs. “I need to go!”

Rumald had rolled off her and had sat onto the steps as Belle had sprung up, readjusting her leggings and her clothes. He had rested back with his elbows onto the step behind him, admiring her, lovingly gazing up and down her body. She had shaken her head with a rueful smile before leaning down to him, kissing him firmly on the lips.

“Later, tiger.” She had said, whispering a touch to his face, and had turned away to set off into a jog, leaving him to watch her provocatively sway her hips at him. 

Smiling at the memory, Rumald licked at his lips with the tip of his tongue, enjoying the sight of her in his mind’s eye. He smoothed his hands down the front of his overcoat and adjusted the knot of his tie, deciding to pop in and see before he went to the shop. A sly smile on his face, Rumald sauntered to the door of the library and yanked opened the door, strolling inside without a care. The door squeaked as he closed behind him, heading straight to her office behind the circulation desk. Her office door was open, so he stepped inside, his smile grew when he found her standing in front of a filing cabinet, reading a file open in her hands. 

He leant back against the wall, clasping his hands in front of him, freely roaming his gaze down her body, her legs to the black heels she was wearing. Maybe it was because he had not seen her since yesterday, but he was finding the sight of her very appetising. As her hand raised to her face, touching a finger to her lips, Rumald held his breath, intently watching whilst her finger traced her bottom lip. Silently, he let out the breath he held, the threat of a growl grew deep inside of his throat. She lowered the finger from her lips to turn the page in the folder.

“Hello, dearie.” Rumald drew out the ‘dearie’.

The file slapped shut in her hands, whilst she jumped at the sound of his voice, and turned to face him, holding the file to her chest. “God, you scared me!” Belle smiled, nervously giggling. “How long have you been there?”

“Not long.” He answered, slightly pouting his lower lip.

Still smiling, Belle tossed the file to her desk, whilst crossing the short space to stand in front of him, and threw her arms around his neck, telling him. “I missed you.”

Leaning in as his arms went around her, Rumald kissed her, a lot longer than was probably needed, and pulled back, returning her omission. “I missed you too.”

“Hmm,” she kissed him again, surprising him, and then asked. “Are you staying for a bit? I could make tea? Coffee?”

“Tea would be a nice change.” One side of his lips turned up into a smile at her. 

A thought occurred to her, causing her eyebrows to momentarily lift up her brow, and she motioned with her head to the library. “Henry’s in there.” Rumald looked to the open doorway. “Been asking questions about you.”

“Has he now…” he let his question trail off. 

“Why don’t you go and talk to him, and I’ll bring your tea into you?” She suggested to him, trailing a finger down the length of his tie. 

He gave her a single nod of his head. “Okay.”

Gleefully, she bounced away from him to prepare their drinks, flicking her hair back to glimpse at him as she went to the small kitchenette in her office. Rumald wanted to freeze the moment, capture her in a photograph, loving how her face lit up when she smiled. He never wanted to forget this moment. Never forget how the sight of her warmed his heart. Made him feel strong and capable, and fall deeper in love with her. 

“Go on.” Belle encouraged, waving the teaspoon through the air, shooing him out of her office. 

Rumald softly grinned, turning to leave her office, glancing back at her, while he exited her office into the library. Over the circulation desk, he could see his grandson… Grandson? Such a strange concept. Rumald had never given much thought to being a grandfather. To him, having Neal had always been enough. The idea that his own son would then go on to have own children had never occurred to him. In his mind, after Milah left, it would have always been just him and Neal, but then life never plays out the way we hope. Always throwing us a curveball, when we were not expecting it. 

Striding purposefully around the circulation desk, Rumald approached the table, where his grandson was sitting with several open books on the table. He stopped behind a chair, touching his fingers to the back of the chair. Slowly, Henry’s gaze raised up to meet Rumald’s.

“Hello, Henry.” Rumald greeted him with a warm smile. “Do you mind if I sit?” He asked, softly.

“No.” Henry gave a short reply.

“What homework are you doing?” He inquired as he pulled out the chair and sat down, resting forward onto the table with his elbows. 

Henry sat back into his chair. “I’ve got to read up on the Egyptians for tomorrow’s quiz.”

Rumald nodded his head at the information. “Have you gotten to the bit, where they pulled your brain out through your nose?”

“Eww… No.” His grandson pulled a disgusted face. 

“I thought a boy of your age, would have found that sort of thing interesting.” He chuckled lightly at Henry’s reaction.

Henry scowled. “Why would they want to do that? That’s just disgusting!”

“They believed that the person would come back to life, so they took out certain organs and their brain to preserve them.” Henry’s face twisted even more with disgust as Rumald explained, making him smirk.

Behind him, Rumald heard footsteps approaching, while Henry said. “That’s just so wrong.”

“Here you go.” Belle stooped to put his tea on the table, smiling across the table at Henry. “Do you want a drink, Henry? Hot chocolate?”

“No, thank you, Miss French.” Henry politely declined.

Rumald put his hand on the curve of Belle’s ass, jolting her gaze to him, and smiled up at her. “Thank you, Miss French.”

“My pleasure, Mr Gold.” And she kissed him. “I’ll leave you two to it.” Belle told him, pressing her forehead to his, smiling at him.

“You don’t have to go.” He said to her as she stood up.

“I’ve got some things to do. I’ll only be at the counter.” She informed him, gesturing a hand to the counter.

Belle squeezed his shoulder before she walked away, her heels clicking as she went, and Henry said. “Have you heard from Neal… my dad?”

Rumald breathed in at Henry’s question and then answered him. “I spoke to him last night.”

“Did he talk about me?” Henry’s gaze was casted down on the book, he had been reading earlier. 

“He didn’t stop talking about you.” He lied and felt terrible for it, but as Henry looked up, a hopeful glint in his eye, all he saw was his grandfather’s kind smile.

“Really?” Henry prompted Rumald to continue.

Rumald took a sip from his tea, licking his lips as he placed his cup back down on the table, buying himself time to think. He really did not want to lie to the boy. Yet, he did not want Henry to think his father was unhappy with the news that he had a son, which he was sure Neal was not. The shock of the news and the fact the love of his life had lied to him, were keeping Neal from processing the fact he had a son. His kindness to Henry would no doubt come back to bite in his ass, but he pushed forward with his lie.

“Neal was saying, how he can’t wait to come back and take you out somewhere. If he hadn’t been so busy at work this week, he would’ve took the time off to spend some time with you.” Rumald spun his web of lies.

Henry shrugged a single shoulder. “I know he’s mad with mum. I’m mad with mum. She told me he was a fireman and that he died.”

“Oh…” He played with the handle of his cup. “It must’ve been a bit confusing, when she was telling you the truth then.”

His grandson shrugged his shoulder again. “Grandma said, it was for my own good, because you’re a bad man.”

On the outside, Rumald’s expression had not changed, while on the inside he was blowing up like a volcano. It did not surprise him. Mary-Margaret had never liked him. She had taken a distaste to him, when he had started doing business with her father and that he had bought her house from her previous landlord. Rumald also suspected, she blamed him for Cora setting her eyes on her father, marrying him the year after she split from Rumald. Making them all a happy little family. The only good thing that came from the union, was Mary-Margaret took to her role of being the elder step-sister, looking after Regina, while Cora swanned off without a care.

“I’m not going to lie to you, Henry,” Again. “I’ve done some bad things in my life. I’ve hurt many people, especially the ones I’ve loved.” He held his hands out to Henry, putting himself at his grandson’s mercy.

“What sort of bad things?” Henry inquired, his eyebrow raised in interest.

“Things I’m not going to discuss with a nine-year-old.” Rumald picked up his cup and drank from his tea.

His eyebrows pressed down over his eyes as Henry asked. “Do you still do these things?”

Rumald shook his head. “No.” And put down his cup. “I try not to do those things anymore.” He smiled as he said. “I didn’t want your father to be around those sort of things, so I had to change.”

“So…” Henry’s brow lifted. “You’re good now?”

“I wouldn’t say that. I have my moments.” It was the most honest, he had been with anyone in a long time, and it scared him how easy it was to talk to his grandson.

Henry nodded his head and changed the subject. “Are you going to marry Miss French?”

There was loud clunk and a hushed curse from somewhere over Rumald’s shoulder. His eyes widened in shock at Henry’s unexpected question. He had forgotten how children could flick from one conversation to another, without a natural transition. Nonetheless, how Henry had gotten from talking about Neal to whether Rumald was going to marry Belle, boggled him.

“I heard mum and Neal… Dad talking about you and Miss French, and dad said he wouldn’t be surprised if you married her.” Henry supplied some context for his question.

“Did he now?” Rumald asked rhetorically, noting to kill his son at a later date.

Henry titled his head to the side. “Would you?”

Threading his fingers together, resting his joined hands in front of him, he told Henry. “If she wanted to marry me, I’d marry her within a heartbeat.” Rumald knew Belle was listening to him. “But it’s too soon for that kind of talk, Henry, we’re still getting to know each other.”

“But you love her, right? Shouldn’t you marry the person you love?” Henry was becoming more animated with his hands as he spoke, reminding Rumald of himself.

“Yes, but it’s not quite that simple.” He tried to explain, hoping Belle did not take anything he said the wrong way.

‘ _Surely, she would agree with me.’_ , he thought to himself, taking a sip from his cooling tea. Looking across the table, Rumald could see Henry was pouting his lip and his brow was down over his eyes, deep in thought about his next question. He began to wonder whose idea it was, for him to talk to his grandson, and then rolled his eyes remembering it was Belle.

“So, technically, she’d be my step grandmother.” Henry stated, rather than asked. “Which would mean, Mr French would be my step great grandfather.”

Rumald opened his mouth a few times, knowing the answer was ‘yes’, but was unable to get the word off of the tip of his tongue. The boy was getting well ahead of himself and they had not even gotten down the aisle yet. Rumald felt like the world was spinning away from him, while Henry continued to pout, moving onto his next subject of conversation.

“Do you think you’re going to have more children?” Henry asked innocently, his gaze somewhere up on the ceiling.

Something smashed on the floor and Rumald shot up from his seat, thanking whoever as he dashed round the circulation desk to discover Belle on her knees, picking up the pieces of her cup. He dropped down to join her, picking up the pieces of what was left of the handle, giving Belle a sympathetic look. To Rumald’s astonishment, when she looked up from pieces in her hands, she was biting her lip, her eyes brightly shone with her amusement. He narrowed his gaze at her, uncertain he should trust his eyes. Awkwardly, she climbed up onto the feet, holding the pieces of the smashed cup in her hands, and dropped them into the trash bin, sat close to her office door. Rumald followed her, glimpsing at Henry, whose nose was buried back in his book.

“I’m sorry about that.” Rumald whispered to her.

“You don’t need to be sorry.” She smiled, touching his arm, while he dropped the pieces he had collected into the trash.

He eyed her suspiciously. “It didn’t make you feel uncomfortable?”

“That your grandson was questioning your intentions for his favourite librarian?” Belle poked her finger at his chest, jesting with him.

The corner of his lips turned up into a smile, but quickly disappeared as he worried about what he had said to Henry. “I was being honest with the boy. I wasn’t trying to avoid the question about marrying you. It’s just too early for that.” His eyes went wide, daunted by the implications and the truth of the situation. “I mean, what? We’ve only been together a week? Talking of marriage this soon is just…”

Belle took a hold of his face, directing him to look at her. “It’s okay.” His brow drooped heavily over his eyes. “I wasn’t bother by it, honest. Surprised, but not bothered.” She smiled, stroking a thumb over his cheek. “Quite like the idea of being Mrs Gold someday, but you’re right, not quite yet. We’ve got all the time in the world.”

His heart was beating like the clappers in his chest. Smiling like an idiot, Rumald brought her closer to him, closing the distance, so their foreheads touched one another. He would have kissed her, wanted to kiss her, but he was too enthralled with staring into Belle’s eyes. Her thumb stroked lovingly down his cheek, giving him all the reassurance he needed with a simple a touch. He loved her, really loved her, and he would marry her one day, and they would have children, and she would be a grandmother – Not quite yet though, they had time for that, they had time for everything.


	50. Chapter 50

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Rumald and Belle arrange to meet after her practise session and Rumald receives a visitor.

The cloth in his hand absolutely reeked with the solution he was using, to clean the picture frame of the painting, which he had been commissioned to restore. Rumald had already popped the painting from its frame and was bent over his workbench, carefully but firmly rubbing at the dirt on the frame. He breathed in time with his rubbing, keenly eyeing the area he was cleaning. After the busy morning he had had - addressing tenants’ complaints, visiting Marco at the old picture house, packing items at the warehouse to send out the next day, organising paperwork for his new business - it was nice to just stop and relax. It may not have been everyone’s cup of tea, but this was the best way, Rumald knew to relax himself, killing the endless thoughts in his head.

Working on the ottoman and the picture frame were the only times he had had a moments peace from his worries. The encounter with Cora was remaining in the shadows of his mind. After all this time, why would she suddenly be interested in him and want to have him as her partner again. No doubt it had something to do with Belle, with seeing them dance in Boston, but… Why? Which was what was troubling him the most. She has an agenda, not knowing what it was, was going to keep their conversation going over and over in his head.

The bell in the front of the shop rang out and he faintly heard the sound of the door click shut. Dove was not due back and he was probably going straight home after getting back from Freeport. Squinting his gaze, Rumald stared at the curtained doorway, patiently waiting for whoever it was to announce themselves or come through to the back of the shop. 

“Rumald?” 

He breathed easier at hearing Belle call his name. “I’m back here.”

The curtain moved aside and Belle stepped through smiling. “Hey, I just wanted to see if you wanted to do anything after practise?”

“Course.” Rumald dumped the cloth on the workbench.

“The girls were talking about meeting at Rabbit Hole. We could go back to my room afterwards.” She suggested, becoming shy towards the end.

He smiled stepping off the stool, reaching a hand out for her. “Miss French,” He crooned as Belle slipped her hand into his and he tugged her into him, wrapping his arms about her. “If you’re trying to bed me, it’s going to take a lot more than cheap drinks and nasty food at the Rabbit Hole.”

“Hmm…” she grinned, stroking a finger down the side of his face. “Now you want to start playing hard to get?”

Rumald brought hand up to his chest, telling her earnestly. “I do have some self-respect; I’ll have you know.”

Pulling a face at him and pushing against his chest, Belle turned her nose up at him. “You also have a very smelly hand.”

“Oh, sorry.” He let her go and threw the hand in question down to his, whilst gesturing to where he had been working. It’s the cleaning solution I’m using.”

“Smells like something died in it.” Her nose was scrunched up as she inspected his workbench.

“Probably could kill someone with it.” Rumald supposed, picking up the cloth he had been using, moving it to the other of the workbench, away from Belle.

Belle took a step back from his workbench. “I’m gonna leave you to your stinky work and I'll meet you outside the Rabbit Hole?”

“Yep.” He smiled at her and leant in to press a quick kiss to her lips. 

“Make sure you wash that off your hands.” She advised him on her way to the curtained doorway. “Otherwise, you’re not the only one playing hard to get later.”

Rumald smirked. “I’ll wash and change before I meet you.”

Stopping in the doorway, holding the curtain open, Belle waggled her eyebrows at him. “Maybe I should come back and watch you.”

“If you don’t watch it, you’ll miss your practise and I’ll have you on this workbench.” He warned, ending his threat by showing her a sly smile.

She pressed the front of herself against the doorway, telling him. “Promises, promises, Mr Gold.”

“Go.” Rumald pointed in the direction of the front door, smiling his amusement.

Belle bobbed into a curtsy. “Yes, sir.”

Watching her disappear behind the curtain, his smile widened, painfully pushing back his cheeks. He loved how playful she could be, giving as good as she got, just as she did when she was annoyed. Casting his gaze to the picture frame, his mind wandered to the dinner they had shared at his house, when he had revealed Gaston’s secret to her and she had been angry at him. A curious thought of how different that night could have ended, if he had perhaps pushed her more, made more of an effort to keep her there. Could their evening have ended with them taking their frustration out on each other? Physically punishing the other, while they selfishly pursued their own pleasure? He groaned quietly, feeling a twitch in groin at the idea of having angry sex with Belle. Their love making was passionate enough already, she would probably break him, if they did have angry sex.

Grinning at the thought, Rumald heard the bell tingle in the front of the shop and sat down on his stool. The door softly closed as he picked up his cloth, doused it in solution and started rubbing at the frame, able to clearly see where he had stopped. Smoothing his fingers over the wood, checking for blemishes, his eyes went to the curtained doorway, able to see her leaning against the doorway, cheekily smiling at him. He smiled, bringing his gaze back to the frame, imagining her waltzing down Main Street, smirking like she had a secret, daydreaming of the evening they were going to spend together. 

They had spent the previous evening apart and as he had sat in his living room, nursing a glass of whiskey, while trying to read a book, Henry’s interrogation had stayed with him. His questions had definitely given Rumald food for thought. For so long, he had closed himself off, refusing to allow anyone to get close to him, giving them his heart. It was not the first time he had contemplated what the future had installed for them. He had fantasied about marrying her, having children with her, living out his days with her, fulfilling her dreams… Yet that had been but a dream. Now, he had the chance to have it all and more.

The bell above the shop door tingled making his ears twitch. Looking at his watch, it was close to seven o’clock - could they have finished early tonight? Not taking a chance, Rumald launched up from the stool, unbuttoning his waistcoat, quickly removing it from his arms. Tugged and pulled the knot of his tie, removing it from the collar of his shirt, tossing both the tie and waistcoat to the other workbench. 

Swiftly unbuttoning his shirt, Rumald crossed the back room to the small washroom, shouting so she could hear. “I didn’t think you’d be done so soon.”

Inside the little room, he pulled the cord turning on the light and pulled his arms out of the shirt sleeves. He threw it to the kitchenette, which was just outside the door, and twisted the taps on the sink before pushing down the stopper into the basin. 

“Could you not help yourself, sweetheart, the idea of me getting somewhat naked without you, too much to bear?” He called out, dipping his fingers into the water to check the temperature and adjusted the taps.

Rumald smirked at his reflection. “We could always go to your room and then on to the Rabbit Hole? What do you think?”

He did not hear a reply to his questions and assumed she could not hear him with the taps running. Waiting a few more seconds, Rumald turned off the taps and began washing his face, his hands and under his arms, hearing the click of heels approaching. As he cupped his hands in the water, preparing to douse his face in water, washing the soap off, he frowned letting his gaze go to the open doorway. He did not recall Belle wearing her heels earlier. Splashing the water over his face and under his arms, he washed his hands again, lathering them up with plenty of soap to rid himself of the smell of the cleaner. 

“Good evening, dear.” Rumald snapped his head to the doorway, Cora was looking at him, hands clasping her handbag in front of her.

Coolly turning his attention back to the sink, he pulled the stopper from the basin and then reached for the can of deodorant on the small shelf. “What do you want?”

“Can I not come and visit you without there being an ulterior motive?” She enquired, slightly hunching her shoulders. 

“I don’t know, can you?” He asked, while spraying the deodorant at either armpit.

Cora’s lips curled into a smile. “You know me too well, Rumald.” She let out a small chuckle, taking a step through the doorway. “Of course, I came here with a reason.”

Giving her a pointed look, he exchanged the deodorant for his aftershave and scented himself with it, as he repeated his original question. “What do you want, Cora?”

“I’ve already told you what I want.” She stated flatly to him.

He returned the aftershave to the shelf. “And I told you, quite clearly, no.”

Her eyes lowered to his chest as her hand reached out to touch him. “Age has been kind to you, dear. You look as fit as you did over a decade ago.”

“Get out, Cora.” Rumald ordered as he stepped around her to leave the washroom, swatting her hand away from him.

Hissing a breath out through his nose, he marched to the cabinet where he kept small delicate items and bent down to open one of the cupboards, and grabbed one of the shirts, slamming the door shut as he stood. His head shook from side to side, seething that she was here, and snapped out the clean shirt. 

“I want to make a deal, Rumald.” Cora smoothly told him.

“I’m not interested in making any deals with you.” He told her, delving an arm into the shirt and reached round to shove his other arm into the other sleeve.

“I think you’d be interested to make this deal.” She paused, mostly for effect. “When you know who it involves.”

Rumald focused on fastening the buttons of his shirt, ignoring her. He worked his way up from the bottom of his shirt, mindful of her being behind him. Her heels clicked closer to him. Refusing to look at her, he continued with his buttons, but froze when something touched his back. Frowning, Rumald tried to decipher what sharp object was touching his back - a knife, perhaps? She had broken his heart years ago and had finally come to finish off the job, was that her plan?

“If you agree to be my dance partner again, I promise I’ll leave them alone.” Cora told him as the sharp object turned into her blunt fingertip, following the line of his back down to the waist of his pants.

Angling his head to barely see her, he fell for her decisive prod. “Who?”

Her hand caressed its way up his back. “Who to start with… Regina,” He didn’t show any outward sign of recognition. “Neal” His shoulders instantly tensed at her mentioning his son’s name. “And Belle, of course.”

Rumald whipped round so fast, he was not even aware of what he was doing as he grabbed Cora and flung her round to slam her backwards into the cabinet, his hand grasping her throat. There was no alarm in her eyes. What he saw made him feel sick as he recognised the look of lust on her face. His hold wavered, torn between letting her go and getting as far as could from her or to threaten to do something much worse to her, if she so much as carried out her plan. 

Sensing he was in turmoil, Cora placed her hand on his chest, appreciating the small amount of flesh she saw, where he had not finished buttoning his shirt. “Like I said, be my dance partner and I’ll leave them alone.”

“This is just a sick game.” He pushed himself away from her, putting distance between them, vainly wiping away the feel of her hand on his chest.

“One that I intend to win.” Her smile was pure evil.

Rumald scowled at her. “And I intend on not playing your stupid game!”

“Let’s see, shall we…?” She gazed off to the shelving, pouting a lip in thought, and began to run through her scenario. “For Regina, I’d just sabotage her exhibition, I’ve already started laying the groundwork for that, as you’re well aware, and I’ll destroy her studio. All that hard work, gone, because you wouldn’t agree to do this one simple thing.”

“Cora, get out!” He flung his hand, motioning for her to leave.

“Then we have precious Neal.” Cora grinned at him. “The apple of his father’s eye…” She dipped her head to the side and said. “I’m sure his job is coming up for review soon at his firm. There’s been talk that someone in the department had been leaking their designs to another firm. They’ve lost contracts over it as their competitors have been winning them, presenting their designs as their own. Someone’s got to take the fall for it.” She giggled. “It’ll ruin his career and you could’ve saved him.”

His brow hung heavily over his eyes as he stared in disbelief, at a loss for why the woman he had once loved, shared everything with, was now coming after him. He had given her everything and she had been the one to leave him, so why did this feel like she was punishing him?

Cora titled her face down, giving him a bashful glance. “My piece de resistance. The one that will hurt the most as I’ve seen you’ve grown… Rather fond of her.” She raised her head to face him properly. “Belle.”

“You leave her alone!” Rumald snarled.

“She loves that library, it would be a shame, if the council had to close it.” Her gaze drifted to the ceiling as she thought it through. “I suppose she’ll survive losing her job, a little heartbroken about it, but she’d be okay to begin with...But, then she wouldn’t be able to afford Granny’s. She seems to be estranged from her father at the moment. So, she wouldn’t go to him.”

He held back from saying anything, feeling there was more to come, as Cora continued. “She’d become homeless, jobless and wouldn’t have any prospects left here in Storybrooke. Guess, she’d have to leave town to find another job, because we both know, jobs don’t come up that often in this town, with it being such a tight knit community.”

“I’d take care of her.” He whispered, his heart breaking with what Cora had planned for Belle. 

“Oh, she won’t come to you, dear.” She grinned evilly at him. “Because you are going to break her heart.”

“What?!” Rumald exclaimed. “I wouldn’t do that to her! Never!”

Cora sauntered up to him, delivering her handbag to a workbench at the same time, saying. “Whichever one you choose, Rumald, you have to end things with her. Either you break her heart or I’ll destroy her, telling her, how we secretly met at the party.”

“There was nothing secretive about it! You found me! There was no ‘we’ involved.” He argued her point.

She tried to cup his face with her hand, but he batted it away, as she said. “I know you well enough, to know you haven’t told her. I also know, her ex-fiance cheated on her. It’s not going to take too much for her to believe it, seeing as you’re up to your old tricks.”

“Before I lose my temper, get the fuck out of my shop!” He warned in a menacing tone. 

“I love it when you lose your temper!” Cora sounded thrilled by his warning, taking a large step into him, grabbing him by the front of his shirt as she said seductively to him. “Do you still think about us? We could never wait, could we? In the car, here in your shop, the dance studio, the basement…” She pulled him closer, pressing herself to him. “Your desk in your study.”

“No, I don’t.” Rumald said, his lip turning up in disgust. 

Her gaze flicked up to meet his gaze before she yanked at the front of his shirt, pinging off buttons and reopening his shirt. There was a flurry of hands, one fighting to dominate, one fighting to fend off the other pair of hands. Catching a hold of her wrists, Rumald charged her backwards and shoved her into the cabinet, making the large heavy unit thud into the wall as it tipped from their force. 

“I DON’T WANT YOU!” He yelled, spitting uncontrollably with his words as his temper passed boiling point.

“That’s it, my love.” Cora showed him a sultry smile. “Lose it and we’ll fuck like we used to.” She told him, leaning forward to capture his lips. 

“What? No!” Rumald shook his head, letting go of her wrists and stepped back. “Just get the fuck out! We’re done!”

She mirrored him, shaking her head at him, telling him as she drifted by him. “We’ll never be over.”

His chest felt tight as he breathed heavily, his chest quickly rose and fell, the flaps of his ruined shirt wafted back and forth. The click of heels became distant and quieter. Turning his head slightly, he waited for the bell to ring above the door and the distinct sound of it closing, giving the bell one more jostle, before he allowed himself to react. As soon as he heard it, Rumald ripped the shirt from his arms, flung it off somewhere, and kicked out at the cabinet, yelling at the top of his lungs. A panel for a draw gave way under his foot, making him stumble forward, but he used the momentum of his stumble to punch higher at the cabinet. He hit it again, cursing the bitch with every name under the sun. Throwing another punch, his temper subsided as his sorrow overtook it, and he slumped his weight against the front of the cabinet, not knowing what to do.

The situation was surreal. A decade ago, Rumald would have gladly taken her back, accepting any excuse she had given him, because he loved her. Growing wiser to her, seeing their relationship for what it was, he would never go back to her. She was the opposite spectrum to Belle, bringing out the worst in him. Squeezing his eyes shut, stemming the tears welling behind his eyelids, Rumald hated the man he had been with her and had lost so much because of her. 

A grandfather clock in the front of the shop began to chime, signalling it was seven o’clock. Pushing himself away from the cabinet, Rumald checked his watch to see it was seven. He had to get ready to meet Belle. Stopping down, he opened the cabinet, collected a shirt and calmly closed the cabinet door. Shaking out the shirt, preparing to put it on, Rumald fed an arm into it and then the other, shell-shocked by Cora’s scheme. Slowly he buttoned up his shirt, vaguely seeing white dots on the floor, the evidence of Cora tearing open his shirt. He swallowed the bile taste in his mouth, sickened by her again touching him. Lifting his gaze from the floor, Rumald worked the tails of his shirt down into his pants as he took a few steps to the coat stand, ready to collect his suit jacket and overcoat. He would have put a tie and waistcoat on, but he had a strong urge to get out of the shop and get to Belle.

Rumald locked the back door and turned off the lights as he headed to the front, putting on his suit jacket and overcoat, and exited the front of the shop with the bell signalling his departure. With his hand on the handle, he took in a deep breath, feeling uneasy as he looked back into his shop, through the glass in the door. He pushed him on, needing to get to Belle, and locked the door. 

“Hey!” His shoulders slumped down as he turned to confront the voice.

“Belle!” He said her name like he had not seen her in years. 

“I thought you might have gotten caught up in your little project.” She waved a hand at the shop. “So, I came to liberate you.”

Rumald walked up to her, smiling. “Is that your excuse?”

Her tongue peeped out between her lips, wetting her top lip, before she drew in her bottom lip to bite it briefly. “I may have fancied catching my boyfriend in a slightly undressed state.”

“I’m sorry to disappoint you, sweetheart.” He held his hand out for her to take it, whilst he started to walk away from the shop.

“You haven’t disappointed me.” Belle grinned as she slipped her hand into his and leaned into him, matching his stride. “Just means I get the pleasure of taking your clothes off.”

“Oh, the pleasure will definitely be all mine, dearie.” He told her, returning her grin.

Being with her, did make him feel slightly better, though a wedge of guilt had firmly planted itself in his chest. Rumald should tell her, pull her to one side and tell her exactly what had happened in New York and what had happened in his shop tonight. He should tell her, what Cora wanted and what she was going to do, if she didn’t get what she wanted. He should trust her with it, but then it was not really a question of trusting her. The fact he had given his heart to her, was proof he trusted her more than anyone else.

A lifetime of being let down, being abandoned, having to deal with things on his own, never knowing who was going to strike him next, had taught him to keep things to himself. He took care of everything without relying on anyone else, because the times he did, his underlying distrust of people was always proven to be right.

Rumald schooled his features, maintaining a passive face, as they strolled by Grannies, heading to the Rabbit Hole. While he murmured agreeable noises at the right moments, to whatever Belle was telling him about their practise session, his thoughts were running away from him, concocting a plan, which would counteract Cora’s. He had no clue, what he was going to do with Cora centring her attention on all three of them. It would not be a simple balancing act as while his attention was on one of them, or at least two of them, she could thwart him by further attacking the one being neglected. Rubbing at his forehead with his fingers, Rumald cursed the bitch and her scheming. Regina had been right; this was his fault, for naively developing Cora skill to manipulate people, so he must contend with this himself.


	51. Chapter 51

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Rumald thinks he’s too old to be called ‘boyfriend’ and Belle worries about getting to work on time.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For what I planned to happen in this chapter, I’ve had to split it as Rumald and Belle got carried away and I couldn’t stop them.

Lazily, Rumald opened his eyes and blinked a few times, allowing the foreign interior of the room to come into focus and his fuzzy mind to catch up with him. Easing off of his front and rolling partially onto his back, he swung his gaze around the room, spotting a few items of their clothing on the chair and some discarded on the floor. A smug grin was born as he dropped onto his back, lying askew on the bed, idly rubbing a hand across his bare chest. He could feel her ghostly touch on him, mapping warm paths of pleasure over his skin. Remembering, he was on her side of the bed, Rumald angled his head up to her pillow, pushing his foot into the mattress, he strained to smell it, becoming inebriated with the familiar smell of her. He relaxed, letting his leg flop out onto the bed, enjoying the peace before his troubling thoughts took root again.

Outside of the door, the jangling of keys perked his attention. Dragging her pillow down to cushion the back of his head, Rumald heard the key slide into the lock, the jangle of the keys as she turned the lock and watched the door handle turn before the door was pushed open. The door swung open and then closed, revealing Belle as she threw her purple hat to the armchair, joining their clothes, her keys jingling in her hand. She reached to the zip of her jacket, whilst she tossed the keys to the small table, near the door, with a clunk, and pulled the zip down, opening the flaps of her jacket.

Her gaze finally settled on him. “Hmm…” She murmured in appreciation, smiling at him. “Just how I like to see my boyfriend.”

“I think I’m too old to be called your boyfriend.” Rumald remarked, while she toed off her sneakers, removing her jacket from her arms. 

“What would you like me to call you then?” Belle questioned, perching her weight onto the foot of the bed with her right knee. “My admirer?”

His eyebrow raised at her vixenish tone as she crawled up the bed to him, posing different titles for him. “Beau? Suitor? My…” She braced herself over him, lowering her head to press a kiss to his left hip through the thin sheet, and looked up with hooded eyes at him. “Old man?”

Rumald swallowed at the hot look in her eyes. “You’re insatiable!”

“What can I say?” Belle clambered further up his body, pausing to place random hot kisses to his stomach and chest, breathing the words onto his skin. “You’ve awoken an unappeasable hunger.” She kissed the shallow indent in his chest, smirking up at him.

Hooking his arm under her arm, he flipped her onto her back, rolling with her, nestling himself between her thighs, the thin sheet and her leggings the only layers between them. “What else could you call me?”

“My beloved.” She stated as he skimmed his hand over the front of her Lycra running top, fleeting his touch across the apex of her breast. 

“A degree in ‘English Literature and Language’, I’m convinced you can do better than that, Miss French.” Rumald teased her with his words and with a purposeful rock of his hips, pressing his hardness into her soft core.

Stifling her moan by sinking her teeth into her lower lip, she laid beneath him, gazing up at him, and said. “Dearest…”

He leaned back onto his knees and slipped his hands under the hem of her top, the tension in the Lycra forced his hands to splay on her skin, as she sucked in a breath, saying. “Paramour…” Lowering himself over her, he worked her top up her body, revealing the smooth skin of her stomach. “Wooer…” Rumald dipped his head, feathering a kiss to the sensitive skin covering her ribs, while she hissed out. “Infatuation!”

“You can’t introduce me as your infatuation, sweetheart.” He admonished, tracing the tip of his nose up the silky smoothness of her belly. “I’m more than an infatuation.”

Raising her arms above her head and arching her back, allowing him to lift her top higher, while she continued with her list. “Inamorato.”

“I hope you’re not making words up.” Rumald gently rocked his hips into her, using the movement to push her top up, exposing her breasts, protected from him behind the thick fabric of her sports bra. 

“Inamorato means a male lover.” Belle explained, while grabbing her top, hauling the clinging material up and over her head, flinging it somewhere in the room. “It’s Italian and is a direct descendant from the Latin word ‘amare’, meaning ‘to love’.”

Softly, he smiled at her, stroking some of the hair from her face that she had dislodged free of her ponytail. “I don’t know what turns me on more, your beauty or your intelligence.”

“Shut up and kiss me.” Belle took a hold of his face and urged his face to hers, clamping her lips over his, slipping her tongue straight into his mouth.

Carefully sinking himself down onto her, his slightly tanned skin pressing to her creamy skin, he languished in her kiss, in the feel of her against him, the smell of her enveloping him. His left hand travelled down her side, leaving a caress in its wake as he snuck his hand underneath her, cupping the curve of her backside in his hand. He could feel the hotness of her core through her leggings and the thin sheet, and wanted to feel more of her, grinding himself into her hips. The murmur of her moan entering his mouth, made a shiver chase down the path of his spine, encouraging him to do it again. Lifting his hips, Rumald’s pulled the sheet out from between them and lowered his hips, pushing up on his toes to thrust himself into her, whilst stroking his hand further down her leg to hook the back of her knee, drawing up her leg, giving him more access. 

Belle pulled her lips away from him and crossed her arms, covering her chest, and removed her sports bra in one fluent movement. Possessed to have them, now that she had given him access, Rumald descended onto her breasts as she stripped the bra from her arms. He palmed one of her breasts, while taking a mouthful of her other breast, sucking hard at the flesh, while the tip of his tongue duelled with her nipple. Moaning and clutching at the back of his head, she brought her other leg up, framing her legs around his hips. 

“My keeper.” Said Belle breathless, peering down, watching him suckle her breast.

He flicked his gaze up to her, grinning as he pulled back on her breast, making the mouthful of flesh pop from his mouth. “I can’t be doing a very good job, sweetheart, if you’re still able to think.”

Smirking at him as she lovingly scraped her fingers down the back of his head, she uttered. “Honey bunny.”

“Oh, no, no, no!” Rumald declared, giving her a small shake of his head, whilst he shifted his position to impart some needed attention to her other breast. “You can’t call me honey bunny. I’ve got a reputation to uphold.” And engulfed her left nipple with his mouth, giving it the same treatment as her other breast.

Her back arched at the sensation, causing her left breast to mould his chin and her right breast to bulge in the constraints of his hand. Anchoring his toes in the mattress, Rumald slid himself against her, hunching his back, continuing to suck on her breast and knead the other. She clutched at his hair, tugging the tuffs, forcefully guiding his head down, crushing his face into her chest. Easing his head back, even with her firm grip, he teased her nipple with his teeth, grating the sensitive bud until it escaped him. 

“God, I want you so much right now!” Belle told him, directing his face up as she lunged up from the bed, capturing his lips.

Gently pressing his hand on her chest, he directed her to lie back down as he pushed himself up and sat back onto his heels. With a sly smile, Rumald clawed his fingers into the waistband of her leggings, peeling them down her legs, bringing her underwear with them, exposing her sex to him and baring her legs. She helped by pulling first her left leg free, then lifted her right, allowing him to completely strip her of her leggings. Catching a hold of her leg, he discarded her limp leggings to the floor, while he ran his eyes down her right leg, appreciating the sight of her naked. 

“Gentleman caller.” She mentioned, laying her arms to lazily rest about her head.

Crooking an eyebrow at her, Rumald lifted her leg as he stooped forward to meet her leg, pressing a light kiss to her ankle before he said. “You’re scratching at the bottom of the barrel now.”

“I’m just getting started, dearie.” Belle shrugged her eyebrows at him, when she used his own condescending address.

“Are you?” He smirked and placed a kiss near the top of her shin. “How many more you got, dearie?” Emphasising the ‘dearie’.

“Lover.” She stated, observing him as he came towards her, arching himself to kiss the inner part of her thigh.

Pausing in his descent, his cheek touching her inner thigh, he confessed to her. “I like that one.”

Belle lifted her left leg and poked him in his ribs. “I thought you might.”

He caught her foot and manoeuvred her legs to encircle him, while he gradually moved to cover her, kissing and nipping her skin as he journeyed up her body. Her fingers delved into his hair, while he kissed the skin in the valley of her breasts, smelling the salt on her skin. Trailing kisses up her chest, Rumald snuck his right hand down between them, reaching down to the junction of her thighs, and slipped his finger through her slick folds, brushing his fingers over her sensitive pink pearl. Belle’s chest heaved suddenly with the hiss of a breath she took in and slowly moaned as he circled his finger around her tender bud.

Daring further, he probed his finger into her entrance, easily slipping his finger inside of her, groaning at her being so wet and hot for him. “Oh, sweetheart…. You’re so wet and ready for me!”

“What do you expect,” She began to tell him as he lifted his face to look at her, slowly withdrawing his finger to delve into her again, trying to vainly to fill her with his fingers. “I was thinking about my ‘soulmate’ being naked in my bed!”

“I ought to stay here more often, if I have the pleasure of making love to you again in the morning.” He said, pulling his finger out, and added another finger before he thrusted back into her, while saying. “I’m not keen on ‘soulmate’. Do I need to remind you about my reputation?” 

“You? Darling? Have a reputation?” Her strangle voice uttered as she threw her head back.

He lifted an eyebrow at her, whilst he slid his fingers partially out of her and quickly surged them back into her, encouraging a deep groan from her. Her fingers clutched at his skin of his shoulders, digging her sharp nails into him. Coating his thumb tip with her pleasure, Rumald repeated the same tortuous stroke and added his thumb, lightly soothing his thumb over her clit, tracing around her clit. Belle tossed her head to the side, the pillow bellowing either side of her head, biting down hard into her lower lip, arching her back, pressing her breasts into his chest. Keeping a steady rhythm, he ducked his head into her neck, licking and nibbling her throat, while she moaned in time with his fingers.

“Rumald! Please!” She begged - He loved it, when she begged. “We don’t have all morning!”

“I do.” He turned his head and murmured, putting his mouth by her ear.

“I don’t!” Belle insisted.

He purred into her ear. “What else could you call me?”

As she moaned into his ear, she muttered. “Bastard!”

“Ooo…” Rumald leaned back to see her face. “I love it when you talk dirty.”

“If you don’t…” She did not get to finish her statement, interrupted by him removing his fingers and thrusting his hardness into her, breaking her train of thought.

He smiled, whispering into her ear. “Remember, sweetheart, I can be ruthless.”

“Still a bas...!” Rumald plunged himself into her, a deep thrust that caused both of them to groan and moan. 

Deliberately receding back, he cupped his hand to her face, turning her head to him, pressing his forehead to hers, as he dove himself back inside of her, grunting at the exquisite feel of her surrounding him. Retracting his hips back, his eyes closed at the intense sensation of moving within her, the silkiness of her, and thrusted inside of her, feeling her raise her hips and clench her muscles around him, pulling him further into her, wanting him to fill her. Rumald moaned, stroking his thumb over her cheek, whilst he slid out, nearly all the way out of her, to sink himself back into her, her hips meeting his, grinding herself against him for the added pleasure. Repeating the same motion, he dug his fingers into her hair, firmly holding her forehead to his, whilst he delved back into her, hunching himself to grind into her hips, when she lifted them. She moaned, clutching her arms around him, panting her hot breath into his mouth, over his face. 

Increasing the pace, Rumald raised his head from hers and kissed her, while descending his right hand down her body, dragging his nails lightly over her skin, and tucked his hand under her, groping her backside, raising her hips to him the advantage. She let out a long moan, her pitch getting higher, as he thrusted into her, tugged by her walls constricting about him. The feel of her wanting him, pressed him to quicken his pace again, making her moan his name into his mouth. 

Breaking the kiss, his brogue was thick as he confessed to her. “I love you, Belle! I love you more than anything!”

“Oh, God, Rumald, I love…!” He cut her short, painfully smashing his lips into hers, kissing her like it was the last time, he was ever going to see her. 

Together, they ravaged each other, fiercely kissing, lips wet and inviting, hips gyrating wildly together, Rumald keeping a relentless pace, desperate to hear her call his name out. From the way, she was tensing and randomly grabbing at him, he knew it would not take much to make her come. He tore his lips away from hers and hungrily fed on her right nipple, sucking her deep, flicking her nipple with the tip of his tongue. Her nails clawed into his shoulders, her hands pushing and pulling at him, torn between wanting more and overcome with the sensations, whilst her inner muscles fluttered and spasmed around him. She sucked in a breath and held it, painfully sinking her nails into his shoulders, her chest pushed up against his face as a sudden hotness rushed over the length of him. 

“Oh… Rum...ald!” Belle's cry spurred him on.

Leaving her breast, Rumald raised himself up on his arms, moaning at the change of angle, and gazed down on her, thinking how beautiful she was in her afterglow. Her hands had slid down from his shoulders to his chest, lovingly she looked up at him, her hands caressing his chest, while she mildly scored her fingernails on his skin. He closed his eyes, focusing on the feel of himself inside of her, gliding effortlessly, her hotness imploring him to seek his satisfaction within her. Hammering his hips into her, Rumald strived to bury all his troubles deep inside her, wanting to forget about everything, pretending the world only consisted of them, locked up her small room, their objective to screw each other senseless.

“Come for me, Rumald.” She whispered to him, skimming her hands down his sides to his butt, encouraging the movement of his hips. “Come for me, my true love.”

The term of endearment caught him a little off guard, causing him to miss a beat in his rhythm. Belle was smiling up at him. Overpowered with the need to kiss her, he swooped down and took her lips captive, messily kissing her, whilst her hands came up to clutch him closer. The pressure of her hands on his back, the warmth of her, the different sensations of her - were all of his undoing. 

“Oh… Belle!” Rumald groaned loudly, pressing his forehead to hers, wrapping his arms awkwardly around her, so he could hold onto her, keeping him grounded, while he rode through his wave of rapture, drowning himself in euphoria.

With a final thrust, sinking as deep as he could, filling her one last time, chasing after the fleeting sensations of his ecstasy, he slumped his weight down on her, keeping some of his weight supported on his right arm. Her hands gingerly stroked across his back, whispering sweet nothings into his ear, while he panted for breath, his face hidden into the crook of her neck, getting drunk on the smell of her. Shifting his legs, Rumald slipped himself out of her and nestled himself into the cradle of her hips, drowsily enjoying the comfort she gave him.

Her head lifted to see the clock on the bedside and then fell back into the pillow, with her saying. “We need to get showered. It’s just after eight.”

“We could just stay here.” Rumald mumbled into her neck.

Belle crooked her head enough to kiss the side of his head. “I’d love to, but I’ve got work and you’ve got so much going on, we can’t stay in bed all day.”

“I’m not getting off you.” He told her, raising his head up, so he could see her face. “You can’t go anywhere, if I don’t move.”

“Rumald, I’m sweaty and icky, I need to shower.” She said, carding her fingers through his hair.

“I don’t mind.” He grinned at her. “We can be sweaty and icky together, in bed, all day…” His sentence trailed off as Rumald leant into her and gently kissed her.

A loud shrill of ringtone and an insistent buzzing sound intruded on their private moment. Snatching his lips back from Belle, he glared at his phone on the bedside table before clambering himself over Belle, to reach for his phone, bearing the lower half of his body down on her, keeping her exactly where he wanted. She grumbled at him, smirking, as Rumald answered his phone, seductively eyeing her as he rolled back to his previous position.

“Gold.” He barked and leant his head down to kiss the top of Belle’s chest.

“Morning, dad.” Neal greeted brightly, sounding very cheerful compared to the last time he spoke to his son.

“Neal?” Rumald jumped up onto the heel of his right hand, throwing his gaze around the room, feeling as though his son had caught him doing something naughty. “Are you alright?”

Neal chuckled. “Yeah, I’m fine, dad. I was actually calling to see, if you’re alright. You didn’t come home last night.”

“Erm…” Climbing off of Belle, Rumald sat heavily onto the edge of the bed, Belle’s right leg lay over his right thigh. “Sorry, I didn’t know you were coming home. Otherwise, I would’ve told you I was staying the night at Belle’s.”

She sat up and hugged him, kissed his cheek, and then nuzzled her nose into the side of his face, whilst Neal said. “It was a last minute thing. I’ll tell you more when I see you. Do you want to meet for breakfast?”

He nodded his head, absently caressing his hand up and down Belle’s bare leg. “Yeah, that’ll be nice.” Turning his head to look at Belle, he suggested. “Meet in Granny’s in about half an hour?”

“Sure. I’ll see you in a bit, dad.” And Rumald ended the call, dropping the phone down from his ear, squinting his gaze at it. “That was Neal.”

“Is he okay?” She asked him, her breath tickled his ear.

“Yeah,” He tossed his phone to the foot of the bed. “Sounded happy.”

Belle inclined back from him, saying. “Maybe him and Emma have sorted things out.”

Taking in a deep breath, he turned his head to look at her and smiled. “We’ll see.”

“I’m getting in the shower.” She informed him as she threw her leg off his lap and used his shoulder to support her as she stood up.

“Okay, I’ll be in a minute.” Rumald helped her to stand, a supportive hand on her butt, a cunning grope of her butt cheek, which earned him a flat look and a smirk.

Showered and partially dressed, he stood in front of the small mirror in the bathroom, brushing his hair back with her hairbrush, smoothing down his hair with his other hand. He put the hairbrush back on the small shelf, above the sink, careful not to knock the other items off, turning his side to side, checking the back of his hair. There were red marks on his shoulders, which caught his eye in the mirror, when he twisted to see more of the back of his head. He smirked, admiring the small angry fingernail marks, she had branded into his skin.

It was this moment, he caught his own in eye in the mirror and straightened himself, facing himself head on, the content he felt slowly drained away. Cora’s visit and her ultimatum came back with full force, pushing it way straight to the forefront of his mind, shoving aside all the happy thoughts he had been having about Belle and him. Casting his gaze down into the sink, Rumald leant onto the edge of it with both of his hands, cursing his stupidity, Cora, for life, for every bad decision he had made in his life. His anger at Cora’s threat was simmering back to the surface and he tightly gripped the rim of the sink, turning his knuckles and fingertips white. Rumald had no clue what he was going to do, how he would be able to protect them all and get what he wanted at the same time. Though, one thing he was positive about, was he wanted to make Cora pay for all of it by the end of it. Make her pay for breaking his heart, for helping to drive the wedge between his and him, for threatening three people he cared about and were innocent. There was no need for her to bring them into this. Yet, he was still asking himself, why the hell now?

“Hey, your phone’s just beeped.” Belle called through to him.

“Okay.” He mumbled, raising his gaze to look at himself, throwing one more insult at himself before he left the bathroom.

As he came through the doorway, Belle was sat in the armchair, wearing only her underwear, working the crumpled material of her pantyhose up her left leg, stretching out her leg as she pulled the material up her leg. He could not help himself, watching as she got so far and then collected the leg of the pantyhose between hands, and fed her foot into the clump of material. Bending to collect his shirt from the bed, where she had left it for him, he smirked as the silky material covered the cream skin of her leg. Rumald slipped his left arm into the sleeve of the shirt and reached round behind him, catching his shirt, to feed his other arm into the sleeve, shrugging the shirt up and onto his shoulders.

“Have you got much going on today?” She asked, standing to finish putting on her pantyhose.

“Just the usual.” ‘ _ And then some.’ _ He added the other comment in his head, wanting to get a head start on whatever Cora had planned, laying the foundations for a plan he had not yet conceived.

Belle came over to the bed and collected the skirt, she had left on the bed, and stepped into it, fastening it into place as she said to him. “Shall I call you about lunchtime? See if you’re free?”

“Oh, Miss French…” He purred at her, moving swiftly to join her at the end of the bed, yanking her against him. “I’m more than willing to appease your hunger for me.”

“I was thinking more of food…” She let her comment trail off, giving him a pointed look, the threat of a smile at the corners of her mouth.

“Maybe…” Rumald nuzzled her nose with his. “We can satisfy both hungers at the same time.”

Slipping her arms around his waist, she rested her forehead against his forehead. “Maybe…”

He smiled at her, reaching up to gently stroke his thumbs across her cheeks before he kissed her. “I love you.”

“I love you too.” Belle returned his smile, tugging at his waist, nudging him into her.

There was short beep and buzz from the foot of the bed, making both of them look down, to where he had discarded his phone earlier. Bending over, his left hand lingered on her shoulder as he picked up his phone, tapping a button to wake up his phone, showing Neal had messaged him. A simple and direct message, ‘ _ I’m here’. _

“Neal’s downstairs.” He shared with her as he pocketed his phone.

She pushed him away and snatched up her blouse from the bed. “Oh, I’m going to be late at this rate!” Then craned her neck, to see him beside her. “You’re a bad influence, Rumald Gold!”

“I do believe, dearie,” Rumald put his hands on her hips and directed her round to face him, pulling her closer, as she put her blouse on. “It was you who instigated things this morning. I’m the innocent party here.”

“You’re never innocent.” Tiptoeing up, Belle kissed him, while her fingers pushed the buttons through on her blouse.

Faking, he had been hurt by her comment, he flourished his hand and laid it on his chest, his mouth agape at her. “I can’t believe you would say such a thing to me.”

She raised an eyebrow at him as she tucked the tails of her blouse into her skirt. “Don’t you think you should finish getting dressed, so we can go and meet your son, who's waiting for us downstairs?”

“If I must.” He grumbled, taking a step back from her, and buttoned up the front of his shirt, grinning at her.

Pivoting away from him, Belle angled herself to get a better view underneath the bed, looking for something, as she said. “I might have to leave you two to your breakfast and grab something and run.”

“No one is going to care about you being late.” He remarked as he tucked his shirt into his pants.

“Easy for you to say.” She threw back at him, moving across the room to the armchair. “The Mayor’s been keeping close tabs on me lately. Turns up out of the blue or someone from his office does, like Arlene, who told me there’s been a lot of talk about the library.”

Rumald stopped feeding his cufflink through this sleeve, his brow riddled with deep lines of thought. “What sort of talk?”

She made an a ‘Ah’ noise before sitting down heavily into the armchair, slipping on her shoes as she answered him. “Before I got the job, they were talking about closing the library. Guess they’re still considering it.”

“Hmm…” He fastened his cufflink and tugged on both his sleeves. “You should’ve told me, I could’ve looked into it.”

“Rumald,” Belle was smiling at him as she got up from the armchair. “I don’t need you running off and fighting my battles for me.”

“If only you knew…” He mumbled under his breath, snatching up his suit jacket from the bed.

As he put on his suit jacket, Belle was telling him how she appreciated him wanting to help, but she had the situation in hand. In hand? She barely had an understanding of the situation, so there was no way she had it ‘in hand’. Roughly straightening his suit jacket, yanking the end of his sleeves, Rumald could feel it in his bones that Cora was behind this. The bitch already had her claws in the Mayor, disrupting Regina’s exhibition, it was not too much of a jump to conclude she was behind this as well. He damned himself for being in New York with Jefferson and missed the last council meeting, because of it. Closing his eyes, Rumald cursed Cora and himself. Her for being a manipulative bitch and himself for not having the foresight to see this coming.


	52. Chapter 52

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Belle comes to meet Rumald, so they can go to the Nolan's for dinner.

With his elbow posed on the edge of his workbench, his forefinger rubbing rhythmically across his top lip, Rumald stared at the ledger book, laid open in front of him, hardly touched for the past two hours. He had plenty of work to getting on with. Projects, which required his attention. Normally, he would have been throwing himself into them, putting as much vigour into them as he could muster, losing himself to his thoughts, channelling his attention to sort through his problems. Nothing was helping him focus his mind. Through the day, his worry for them, had overpowered his ability to think. Leaving him to stare into space, soothing his lip, as he tried to envision Cora’s big picture, what exactly she gained every ruining their lives.

_Nothing._

This was all part of her game. She knew him too well and Rumald was playing straight into her hands, which was making his blood fester. Cora was well aware, he would not tell them, would choose to do this on his own, fight this battle by himself. Rumald would never class himself as a hero, as his son had called him the other night, but when it came to family, people he loved, he would give up everything and she was well aware of that fact. It was why she had played him so well before. Preyed on his weaknesses, pleaded to his need to protect, fed his hunger to please her, even though it meant he had to sacrifice his son to please her… Which he had done without a second thought.

He was more annoyed at himself than he was at her. Cora didn’t know any better. This was her all over, manoeuvring pieces on the board, putting them just where she wanted them until she was ready to play them. Her board was set and she was ready to play, except she had rigged the board against him. Using her personal knowledge of him against him.

The winning strategy was right at his fingertips. The most obvious and easiest solution to his problem – Tell them everything.

Cora would never expect him to do it, because he would never expect himself to do it. Telling them would admit, he was weak and unable to handle the situation. Pride held him back from doing it, never wanting to admit the truth about himself. Admit, he was just like his father and everyone had been right about him, all the things they had ever said about him, had been right. His anger was his biggest fault. Angry, because he wanted to protect them, wanted to put Cora in her place, wanted vengeance for how she had ended things, wanted to squash out the memory of the little boy, who had clung to her in fear of being lonely again, and wanted so very much, more than any of the other reasons, to make Cora pay for the time Neal and Regina had lost of their childhood.

Which was what scared him, because of these failings, he could possibly lose the one person, who mattered more to him than Neal. His failings were going to be his downfall, once again. Not only though, would they cost him the love of his son, which could possibly happen again, if he played Cora’s game, but it could cost him Belle’s love. That was a price, he was not willing to pay.

Yet… He could not stop himself.

His finger ceased moving across his lip as Rumald closed his eyes, wishing to whoever was listening, to give him the strength to be a better man. ‘ _Why do I have to make this hard on myself?’_ , and the answer was there, he did not need to. They were all a phone call away, he could summon the three of them to his shop, explain the situation to them and they could brainstorm the issue together. Dropping his hand to flop onto the workbench, opening his eyes to look at his idle phone, sat in arm’s reach of him, he knew he would not call them. His heart was tearing itself to pieces at the truth, inconsolable to the evitable certainty that Rumald was about to lose everything and it would be his own fault again.

The bell above the shop door in the front of the shop, rung out cheerfully, waking him from his stupor, giving him enough time to gather himself together, before the curtain twitched. It easily moved to one side, allowing Belle to step into the backroom, instantly brightening the atmosphere.

“Belle.” He was genuinely surprised to see her.

Her brow creased at him, holding her hand out to motion to him, as she said. “You’re not ready to go.”

“Go?” Rumald asked.

Belle swung her handbag up and onto his workbench, half smiling half frowning at him. “Nolan’s, dinner, tonight. Remember? Neal asked us at breakfast to go…”

Frowning at her, at his workbench and then down at himself, Rumald closed his eyes, remembering the conversation from breakfast. “Shit.”

“Shit, indeed.” She agreed and chuckled at him. “Don’t worry, we’ve got time.”

“Right…” He opened his eyes to look at her. “Okay.” And then slipped off his stool, closing the ledger to return it to the large cabinet.

As he turned the small key to lock the ledgers away, Belle asked him. “What happened to your cabinet? Looks like someone kick the hell out of it.”

Stepping back, Rumald surveyed the damage, he had done the previous night, to the lower part of the cabinet. “Erm…” He swivelled on the balls of his feet to face her, waving a hand through the air. “It was stuck and I needed something out of the draw.”

“So you kicked it?” She looked at him, sceptical of him.

“I may have lost my temper just a little bit with it.” He explained to her, showing how much with his thumb and forefinger.

Her head lopped to the side, a cynical look on her face as she said. “You, Rumald Gold, lose your temper?”

“It does happen.” He told her, crossing to the small washroom.

“I know it happens, we’re all human at the end of the day.” She remarked, her voice sounding slightly distant after he entered the small washroom.

Rumald tugged on the cord, turning on the light in the washroom, twisted the taps both on and put the stopper into basin before tugged, in turn, his sleeves up his forearms. Flicking his gaze up to himself in the mirror, the feeling of déjà vu crept its way up his shoulders, tickling at the small hairs at the back of his neck. He half expected Cora to sidle into the doorway, but he did not dare look. His fists clenched on the rim of the sink, envisioning what he would do to her, if she dared to step foot in his shop again.

“I guess I’m just surprised, really.” Belle voiced in the backroom. “I’ve never known you to be anything, but cool and calculated.”

He turned off the taps, saying. “People have their breaking points, sweethearts.”

Belle suddenly appeared in the doorway, as he plunged his hands into the warm water. “Course, they do.” She slumped up against the doorframe as she said. “You would tell me, if something was wrong, wouldn’t you?”

Rumald held his breath, his hands submerged in the water, looking at her with wide eyes. In his head, he wanted to say, ‘ _No, sweetheart, my ex is threatening to hurt the people I love and wants me to end things with you, unless I agree to be her dance partner again.’._ His mouth opened, attempting to say this, but he quickly clamped it shut and forced a smile onto his face.

“I’m fine, sweetheart.” He lied, twisting the knife in his own gut.

She came further into the small room, which was not much, whilst he picked up the soap to lather his hands in the water, telling him. “You know, you can tell me anything, Rumald.”

Her words had captured the hilt of the knife in his gut, twisted it and yanked it up, shoving it up and under his ribs and into his heart. Rumald’s knees became weak, faintly shaking behind the cover of his pant legs. Pressing his lips into a thin line, concealing the quiver in his bottom lip, Rumald wanted to drop to his knees at her feet, begging for her forgiveness as the truth spilled from his lips. Her eyebrows twitched, able to see a trace of what he was hiding behind his mask of indifference. 

“I know, sweetheart.” Rumald brushed the backs of his wet fingers over her cheek. “I’m sorry. I’m just thinking of work, I’ve got a lot of things I need to organise, if I’m going to spend the holidays with you, instead of working.”

It was not a lie. It was a thought, he had been keeping at the back of his mind, which he was now using as an excuse. It was a white lie. Not a dark and self-serving lie, it was the truth… Somewhat.

Her face lit up at him, jolting the knife even deeper into his chest, whilst her hand touched his face, beaming a smile at him. “Oh, Rumald!”

“Well… that’s if you want to…” His words trailed off, with a thought of doubt entering his mind.

“I wouldn’t want to spend it with anyone else.” Belle told him, slipping her hand round to the back of his head, urging him to meet her lips, sweetly but firmly kissing him.

She pulled back and glanced down at the sink. “You better hurry up, or we’re going to be late.”

“Okay, sweetheart.” He said softly, nodding his head at her.

Belle backed up, repositioning herself in the doorway as he began lathering his hands again, telling him. “I popped out earlier and got a bottle wine to take with us.”

“Good idea.” He mumbled, smearing his face with the soap.

“I saw Neal with Henry and Emma earlier.” She shared with him, whilst he rinsed the soap off his face, mindful of his shirt and waistcoat. “Must have collected him from a school. They looked really happy together.”

Rumald pulled the hand towel off the nearby rail and patted his face dry. “Sadly, if it hadn’t been for me being his old man, he would’ve spent most of his Friday afternoons like that.”

Throwing the towel over his shoulder, he washed his hands and pulled the stopper out of the bottom of the basin, and dried his hands on the towel drape on his shoulder. His already shredded heart was battered and bruised, from the truth of Emma’s words. Yet, it stung him deeply that Mary-Margaret had intervened, keeping his son from knowing his own son, because of him. All this heartache his son was going through, was because of the choices and the things Rumald had done in the past. Instead of him paying the cost, his son was the one being burdened with the consequences of his father’s actions.

“It’s not your fault.” Belle assured him, smoothing her hand up and down his left arm.

“Sure looks like it to me.” He commented, returning the towel to the rail.

She grabbed the front of his waistcoat, directing him to turn and face her. “They kept this secret from Neal, not you. There’s no excuse for what they’ve done.”

“Everything always ties back to me.” Rumald shook his head, placing his hands at her waist.

“Stop being so hard on yourself. You didn’t make them do this.” She jostled him by his waistcoat. “No matter what you’ve done in the past, they shouldn’t have kept it from him.”

“I appreciate what you’re saying, sweetheart, but that’ll never stop me feeling guilty.” He informed her, drawing her closer to hug her.

Pushing her hands on his chest, Belle leant back until she could see his face and said. “Is this what’s been playing on your mind? You’ve been acting strangely since New York, when you got the call from Neal.”

Here was his second chance to come clean with her.

Her eyes were imploring him to tell her, to share his dark little secret with her, and she would listen to him and then she would tell how stupid he was being. How this was not just his problem and they should get Neal and Regina and discuss it. She would insist they could do this together and they probably could. But, she did not know Cora. She did not know who they were dealing with. Belle was too gullible to see the evil in someone’s soul. Otherwise, she would have run for her life, if she could see what lived inside of him.

“Somewhat.” He told her lamely, his head dipping to the side, avoiding eye contact with her.

“You’re a stupid fool.” She softly smiled at him, moving her hands up from his waistcoat to cup his face between her hands, using her hold to make him meet her gaze. “You should’ve just said.”

Wrapping her arms around his neck, Belle hugged him, cradling the back of his head, combing her fingers through his hair, while whispering sweet nothings into his ear. If he was a better man, the one she deserved to be with, he would have pulled himself out of her embrace and told her truth. Accepted the consequences and reveal everything to her. Closing his eyes, burying his face into the crook of her neck, Rumald consented himself to the fact he was not and clung to her. He was a coward, through and through, that was who he was and would always be. The coward, who hid successfully behind a façade of power and wealth.

It was no long after that, Rumald had escorted Belle out of the shop, locking it up as they left, and drove them over to the Nolan residence. As he drove, Rumald awkwardly played with the ring on his right hand, flicking at the silver band on his finger. He had nothing to fear, he knew this. What exactly could Mary-Margaret do to him, apart from glare at him all evening? Nothing. She was a scorned child, holding a grudge against a bystander, because she needed someone to blame, for Cora coming into their lives. She was no doubt right on some level. Nevertheless, Rumald was unnerved about spending time in her company, and he did not like it.

He chanced a look across at Belle, she was bobbing her head in time with the music, mouthing silently along with the music. Reaching his hand across to her, he rested it on her thigh and she instantly covered it with her own, lovingly stroking her thumb across the back of his hand. The knife in his heart eased at the picturesque scene of her. The love he felt for Belle was burning brightly, lessening the harsh ache he felt in his heart. Thinking what his life would be like again, without her by his side, made Cora’s threats very real.

One handed, he turned the steering wheel, taking the turn into the Nolan's street. He slowed and pulled up to the kerb, parking behind the yellow VW beetle of Emma’s. Switching off the car, Rumald scrutinised her beetle as he wrapped his fingers about his door latch, pondering what delights Emma may feel to share with him this evening. Her words about his son still lingered, the sting of them heavy, as he got out of his car.

Eyeing the car as Rumald rounded the front of his own to open Belle’s door, his gaze went up to the Nolan house. It was a large white house, nearly as big as his own, except it did not have the third floor like his house did. Pulling open the passenger door, Rumald glanced up the street to see Neal’s BMW parked in front of the beetle and Sheriff Nolan’s truck, ‘Storybrooke Sheriff’s Office’ written down the side of it, parked in the driveway at the side of the house.

He moved around the car door and offered his hand to Belle. “I’m sorry for making us late.”

“I’m not bothered.” She told him, using his aid to get out of his car, and said, standing to her full height, grinning at him. “Being with you is all that matters to me.”

His shoulders sagged, while his heart clung to the cage of its imprisonment, wanting to get to her. Rumald lifted the hand he held to his lips and pressed a sweet kiss to her knuckles, holding her gaze over the top of her hand. There was a small smile on her face, but even after nearly two weeks together, he recognised the look of lust in her eyes. He was tempted to shove her back into the car, lock her door and take her home, but he had told Neal he would come and she had helped persuade him to make this decision.

With their joined hands, he led her away from the car and pushed her car door shut her for. Stepping closer to her, putting his hand on the small of her back, Rumald went to guide her up to the house, but was stopped by her pivoting and taking a hold of his tie. She repositioned it and tightened it, a little tug on the small tail of his tie.

“Tonight, Rumald Gold,” Belle started to tell him, smoothing her hands down the front of his overcoat. “You leave your thoughts here at the car and enjoy an evening with your family and your…” She bit her lip in thought, a glint of mischief in her eye. “Significant other.”

A slow grin spread his lips, while he rubbed his hands up her back, enjoying the little domestic scene of her making sure her man was presentable. “Doesn’t quite have the same ring as ‘True Love’.”

She smiled, asking him. “What about your reputation, Mr Gold?”

“It doesn’t mean anything without you, sweetheart.” He told her, offering his arm to her.

“Flattery will definitely get you what you want.” Belle clasped her hand around his arm, a wicked grin on her face.

“That, Miss French, remains to be seen.” Rumald banked himself into her, pressing a kiss to her cheek, and inclined back from her, pausing for their gazes to meet, and then led her up to the house.

Unhooking his arm from hers, when they neared the porch steps, Rumald cupped her elbow in his hand and assisted her up the steps, noting the faint sound of music. At the top of the steps, he widened his gait to get to the front door first and pressed the doorbell, and stepped back to bring Belle into his side. She snuggled in closer to him, clutching her gloved hands to her chest, fending off the cold tendrils trying to bite her fingers. Putting his arm around her, he pulled her closer, rubbing his hand up and down her side, encouraging some warmth into her. 

A short shadow ran up to the door, obviously Henry, though his identity was masked by the net curtain, covering the two panes of glass in the front door. The shadow bobbed up and down, and then the door opened, letting a rush of warm air out onto the porch. A hint of the warmth kissed Rumald’s face as the young boy opened the door, peering his head around the edge of the door with a cheeky smile. Rumald blinked his eyes a few times, struck by a memory of Neal doing the same thing.

“Miss French!” Henry proclaimed, racing out to greet her, throwing his arms around her waist.

Belle stooped to greet him, hugging him with one arm, while glimpsing at Rumald. “Hey, Henry.”

“I thought I wasn’t going to see you today.” He told her, leaning back to look up at her. “Then dad said, you were coming for dinner with Mr Gold.”

“Well, clearly, I couldn’t turn down the opportunity to spend some time with you.” She gushed at the young boy.

“Let’s get inside. It’s cold out here.” Rumald herding the pair towards the front door, which was now occupied by the Sheriff.

“Evening, Belle. Mr Gold.” He smiled his usual charming smile at them, stepping aside to allow them into the house.

Her arm around Henry’s shoulders, Belle walked Henry back into the house, smiling at the Sheriff. “Thank you for inviting us, Sheriff.”

“It’s the least we could do.” The Sheriff titled his head graciously to her. “And its David, seeing as this is a family dinner.”

“Thank you, David.” She reaffirmed.

“Sheriff.” Rumald said in greetings as he crossed the threshold into their lair.

“Rumald.” The Sheriff returned and closed the door after Rumald.

Clamping down on his instinct to jump, Rumald craftily turned to glimpse at the closed door, now trapped inside the Nolan’s home. A tap to his chest brought him back round to Belle, who was removing her coat and motioned for him to do the same. Following her actions, Rumald peeled back his overcoat and shrugged himself out of one sleeve, before drawing his arm out of the sleeve, holding his coat by the collar.

“I’ll take those from you.” The Sheriff apprised them. “Care for a drink?”

“Glass of white wine, if you have any.” Belle said, laying her coat over the Sheriff’s offered forearm.

Giving his coat to the Sheriff, Rumald looked to the front door from the corner of his eye, saying. “Whiskey, if you have any.”

“I’m sure, there’s some somewhere.” The Sheriff smiled and left.

“Oh,” Belle dug into her handbag and pulled out the bottle of wine she had bought. “Henry, can you go and give this to your grandpa or grandma?”

“Sure!” The young boy grabbed the bottle of red wine and rushed off, trailing after his grandfather.

Rumald moved closer to Belle, placing his hand on her lower back, which caused her to turn her head to look at him, as he said in a low voice. “I feel like I’ve accidentally walked into a viper’s den.”

She turned into him, smoothing a hand down the front of his chest. “I’m right here with you. We’ll face this together.”

Staggering a step forward, bumping into her, he could feel himself unravelling in front of her. The impulse to grovel at her feet, pulled at his hands, luring him down onto his knees. Inside, he could feel the rumbling a storm stirring within his chest, threatening to lash a downpour down his cheeks, whilst Belle steadied him, concern etched deeply into her face. He attempted to swallow down the lump in his throat. Opening his mouth to let the truth tumble from him, his voice was gagged by the lump and all he could managed was a stuttering ‘I’ at her.

“Dad!” Neal shouted at the end of the foyer, appearing from where the Sheriff had gone, Henry tucked into his side with his father’s hand on his shoulder.

Rumald sucked in a deep breath and stepped back, putting a small space between him and Belle, and lifted his gaze to his son. “Neal.”

“We were starting to think you weren’t coming.” Neal squeezed Henry’s shoulder. “Weren’t we, buddy?”

“And miss dining with the Nolan’s? How could I refuse?” He said dryly, avoiding the questioning look Belle was giving him.

“Not that it took the whole of breakfast to convince you.” Belle mumbled, so only he could hear her, whilst she pivoted to face Neal and Henry.

“Dinner shouldn’t be much longer. Mary-Margaret’s been slaving over it since she came home.” Neal informed them.

Henry titled his head back to look at his father. “Can I show Miss French my book?”

Neal smiled and nodded his head. “Sure, buddy.”

Waving his hand for Belle to come with him, Henry bolted into the living room, his feet pounding on the wooden floor. Intrigued, Belle inclined herself slightly forward, taking the few steps to see Henry in the living room, a bemused look on her face. Advancing the same few steps, Rumald glimpsed into the living room before looking to his son. Neal scratched at the back of his head, smiling at his father, gestured for them to come into the living room and followed after his son. Without looking at Rumald, Belle went into the living room and Rumald felt he no choice, but to tag along after her and leave the safety of the foyer.

Edging slowly forward, wary he was on enemy territory, Rumald crossed into the living room from the foyer, his eyes roamed the walls covered in pictures – family vacations, anniversaries, birthday parties, random moment frozen in time. The room felt cosy, warm, the heart of their family home, the polar opposite to how his own was at home. Their house was light, bright and welcoming, friendly even, whereas Rumald’s was dark, cold and felt more like a museum than a family home. Although, lately, with Neal and Belle, both spending more time at his house, the house seemed to feel much happier with the two of them around. Or that could be more Rumald was feeling happier with the two of them being around more.

Rumald walked the perimeter of the living room, aware of Belle and Henry sat on one of the couch, Henry excitedly chatting to Belle, about the book Neal had gotten him, while Rumald twiddled his silver ring on his finger, working it back and forth along the length of his finger. Sidling up to the front window, looking out onto the dark evening outside, he cursed himself. Nobody had pushed himself into this position. Cora had not made him do this. Like he had already surmised, she was using her knowledge of him against him and that is exactly, what he would do against her or anyone else. Which is what made him feel worse, made the guilt and the remorse for his actions, so depressing. He dropped his gaze down to his ring, twisting the silver band more viciously, recognising he was a man who made terrible choices and never learnt.


End file.
